Prince Garsiv of Persia
by CrystalDreams72
Summary: I am bad with summaries, I will let my story speak for itself. It is about Garsiv and an OC. It takes place before the movie so please note this. It is rated M for many reasons, not really language, but for battles and smut. It isn't based about smut tho
1. Chapter 1

**AN: I revised this version because after I posted it I noticed that I wrote Hassassin and it is really Hassansin. So I went back and fixed it. **

**AN: First off I do nt own Prince of Persia. I only own my character Shraga. Secondly this is just movie verse, so if you were looking to read about the game, this is not your story lol. I do hope you enjoy, and please pay no attention to grammar mistakes. I grow tired to rereading my stories looking through them for mistakes. This is a Garsiv and OC fic so I hope its good. Pleas read and review. **

He inspected her rather closely. Why wouldn't he? She was the prospective woman to marry into his royal family so she had to be inspected. Rather dirty creature, he thought. She wore her hair long and wavy, her hair ended at her hips. A lot of unruly hair she has, he thought as he tilted his head. He wondered if it would give him a better angle on her. In fact it didn't. Her hair was said to the finest red that he would ever see, but here before him stood a woman with dingy, sandy red hair. It was covered with dirt and he was sure if he touched her, he would get fleas. She reminded him of a stray dog in the slums of his city, where he actually found one of his sons.

In fact her hair wasn't the only dingy dirty thing about her. She was covered in desert sand. She looked rougher than some of the men in his company. Her face was marred with dirt and sweat. He wasn't sure what color her skin really was. He figured she would have that wonderful golden desert tan, but he couldn't tell with all the dirt on her skin. He gulped hard and then looked to her father. The father was a pristine man, like his people. King Saraman had to wonder if she had presented herself like this on purpose so he would refuse her. Well what this dirty creature did not know was that he was King Saraman, and he kept all his promises. He had employed the Hassansins a long time ago, and when he did he had promised to take one of their daughters into his family.

She was considered a princess here among her native people, and one day she would be considered a Princess of Persia. He would make good on his promise and she would marry one of his sons. She could never be queen though. So she could not marry Tus, even though he has yet to marry. He would have considered her for Tus if she were more beautiful, and wasn't of Hassansin descent. She would probably be better suited for his son Dastan in the people's eyes, but it would be an insult to let the youngest marry first.

So his only choice was for her to marry Garsiv. He sighed. Garsiv would never forgive him for making his first wife this filthy Hassansin. He took a step closer to her to get a better look. He was happy that she drew herself straighter, and didn't back down to him. She was tall, a few inches shorter than Garsiv. He could tell that she was lean, an athletic build, as well as shapely. The rags she was wearing couldn't hide the hourglass figure or her high set breasts. Her hips were wide, great for child bearing, he thought fondly. Her eyes were a lime green. Very intense her stare was, and he was the first to look away. Very strong willed, this was good. He went to turn around to speak to her father and his eyes caught something else under that hard look and dirt. She had a scar on her right eye. Very faint, but noticeable once it was found. He sighed again. Garsiv was going to think he was getting damaged goods, which she clearly was.

The scar went vertically through her eye and was about two inches long. It started right under her eyebrow, and looked as if it cut right through her pupil and ended right on her cheek bone. It was a wonder that her eye hadn't been damaged. He finally looked away and started to speak to her father.

"She will marry my second born, Garsiv." he said with a smile.

Her father did not smile though. "She will not marry the first born?" he asked confused.

"Because she is clearly not fit to be a queen of Persia, just a princess." said Saraman, knowing full well that the Hassansin wanted his daughter on a high seat in the throne room. She would be high enough, and the Hassansin should just settle on what he can get. "She is strong, and she is very fit to be the future queen of Persia." said her father.

"She is young though, too young for Tus. Girl how old are you?" asked Saraman.

"I am sixteen your highness." she said properly. He had seen her visibly relax when he said that she would marry Garsiv instead of Tus. Seemed that this girl had no intentions on wanting to be a queen. "See, she is young for Tus. Tus is now turning 22, and Garsiv is 18. It would be more appropriate for her to marry Garsiv. I think it is a better match." said Saraman, and that was the final word. She, Shraga of the Hassansins, was to marry Garsiv of Persia.

Xxxxxxxxx

King Saraman was correct. Garsiv was furious to learn that he was to be married. Not only to be married but to learn the wedding would be two days away. "I refuse to marry her. I don't even know what she looks like!" spat Garsiv as he paced in front of his father's throne. "You will see her on your wedding day." said Saraman as he smiled down at his son. Tus and Dastan were there too and they couldn't help but feel their brother's pain for having to marry a woman he did not want.

"What does she look like father? The servant's whisper how she looks like a goat's cousin." laughed Tus as he elbowed Dastan. It was just a joke though. And it even pulled a small smile to Garsiv's lips, but it was just a moment and it slipped back into a deep frown again. "Well she looks like an Angel. Fiery red hair. Perfect golden skin. Almond shaped lime green eyes, and an attitude to match the hair." stated Saraman.

Garsiv sighed defeated. It was futile to argue with his father who clearly had made up his mind. There was not getting rid of this stupid notion that he would marry this tribal Princess. He sighed again and tried to control his anger. He then looked at his brothers. His eyes told them both that they were going to help him see his bride before the wedding. Dastan smiled, and Tus frowned. Surely they would get in trouble for this. "Well father I guess you are right. I will marry this woman you claim to be an angel." said Garsiv. "Ah good my boy, I am glad you agree with me." Saraman said with a joyous smile.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Agree with his father he may have done, but he would see his wife. He would do so bluntly. He marched right into her quarters, followed by Tus and Dastan. They encountered a room full of women, but none which were red headed like their father had said. "Maybe she hasn't arrived yet?" asked Tus as he looked over his shoulder at Garsiv who looked infuriated that she wasn't anywhere to be found.

"She is here. I know she is. I bet they are hiding her. You there, where is my intended?" asked Garsiv of a servant woman. She bowed deeply to him then looked up at him confused. "I do not know where she is my lord. We haven't been able to find her as of yet." said the servant.

Garsiv blinked a few times. "What do you mean?" he asked

"Well we were ordered to come here and care for her, but once we arrived she wasn't here. We have been searching for her but we cannot seem to find her." she said with a shaky voice. The Royal family were a kind family, but she was still afraid. The brother's looked among each other, worried was read on all their faces.

xxxxxxx

She knew that they would come and look for her, but King Saraman had made it clear to stay away from her intended. So today, she hid in the best hiding spot that she was able to find, her future husband's quarters. She hadn't taken too much time to look around before she was bathing herself. She drew her own bath and washed herself in his private bath chambers. She before all was born a woman who could care for herself. She didn't need a room full of women bathing her, when she could bath herself better. Second she wasn't this dirty woman the King had thought she was.

She was a Hassansin, and they were clean folk. She was rather compulsively clean for a Hassansin though. She bathed in the tub her future husband bathed in, and after she was cleaned from head to toe, she then dressed in one of her future husband's robes. She discarded her dirty clothing and then finally went to explore Garsiv's room.

It had been decorated by royal decorators, but definitely had a male influence in the room. Swords, many swords littered the walls and tables of his room. She actually smiled about the swords. She was a Hassansin so she appreciated the weaponry, just not so openly. She reached out to one of the swords and fingered the blade. It was expertly sharpened and she figured it would be. She sighed and moved on, trying not to think about how he probably didn't sharpen the blade himself. She didn't want to think Garsiv was the kind of man who had to have things done for him.

She looked at the scrolls next. Mostly there were about war strategy. So Garsiv loved his swords, seeing how there were so many of them, and he was a reader about war strategy. No doubt he counted himself a warrior. She wondered about his true skills though. Real warriors had no need to display their weaponry like so, and the only reason they would read war strategies was to read about other's mistakes. She was suddenly looking forward to seeing what kind of man Garsiv really was.

She had heard whispers when she was a few years younger that Garsiv was the son who was best with a blade. She could only hope that her future husband proved to be all he needed to be. She wouldn't be able to stand the fact that she was going to marry a man who couldn't hold his own against her. She was a woman, yes, but she had been trained like the men of her people. Her father was the leader and she was his tool, or so he thought.

It was a good plan. Train the daughter that was going to one day marries into the royal family that relationships were beginning to become heated with. Her father trained her to be a tool, a weapon. Her father knew things were going south with their treaty with the Persian King. So what better way to ensure that if things got worse that he would have a Hassansin on the inside who could kill them all.

What her father did not realize was that while she may have been a perfectly trained Hassansin warrior, she was above all a woman. Hassansin women were fiercely devoted to their husbands. Once a bond was made with a husband a Hassansin woman would not betray her man. Her father didn't estimate this so if things did go south after the wedding her father would lose her. She sighed at the thought. This wedding was going to tear her away from her people. She blinked away the tears and realized that her wedding day would be a door opening to her new life as a real woman, not just a tool of her father.

She ended up lying in Garsiv's bed, figuring out how he slept at night. She found out that Garsiv slept to the right of his bed, his left arm stretched around his head and his right hand resting on his stomach. She could tell because of the indentions in the mattress. He also slept with his left leg stretched out straight and his right leg brought up to his thigh. It was strange that she too normally slept like this in her own bed. She then glanced over and sighed. There was no room for her in this bed if he slept like this. She did not fit into his bed, then she knew she would not fit into his life very well.

Her life was not her own she knew that. It was something she would have to become accustomed to. It was just something she wished wouldn't have happened. She should have been born a male, and none of this would be a problem for her. She sighed and then left his room to find another place to hide.

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"Your foot steps are light, good for sneaking up on people…. Prince Dastan." she said without turning around to face Dastan. He looked very surprised though. Him and his brothers had searched for her all day and he, on a whim, decided to check her chambers once more before departing to his own chambers. He had found her sitting alone reading a scroll. He thought to sneak up on her, but she was obviously better than he thought.

"How did you know I was Dastan?" he asked as he drew closer to her.

"I wasn't entirely sure but you just confirmed it for me." she said as she put down the scroll and turned to look at him. He at first was taken by her beauty. His father had said she was beautiful, and he wondered instantly about why she was chosen for Garsiv and not Tus. She was young, yes, but there were younger women marrying older men, so age was not the issue. She was stunningly beautiful and he took another step closer so he could take her beauty in more. But then that was when he noticed.

She wore bruises on her arms, as if she was a warrior, and she had that scar on her eye. Tus, while not a man to ever say a harsh word about a woman, would not take the marred girl. Her oval face pretty face did not hide the scar on her eye. The scar was hard to spot but once found it was there to stay in anyone's mind. The thing was though, it wasn't even that big of a scar, or even that dark of one, it just marred her features enough to where she would never be eligible for Tus. And the bruises on her arms, like she had recently fought with someone didn't help her case. So this was Garsiv's woman.

"Sword, it was a sword that did this to my face when I was younger." she explained as she fingered the scar with her pointer finger. He expected her to shy away from his intense stare but all she did was stroke that scar fondly and smiled. She is odd, he thought as he finally took step away from her.

"So are you excited to be marrying my brother?" he asked with a smile. She laughed at him and stood up. She was only a few inches shorter than him, which was tall for a woman.

"Would you be excited to marry a man you never met?" she asked.

"I see your point." he said, starting to feel slightly unnerved.

"Well, Dastan, I know you probably have many questions for me I hate to tell you that I am ready to retire and would rather this conversation be saved for tomorrow." she said as she started over to her bed. He nodded. "It was nice to meet you Princess Shraga." he said cordially with a slight bow. "It was nice for you to sneak up on me too, Prince Dastan." she said as he ducked out of her chambers.

Xxxxxxxxx

She had managed to stay well hidden from Garsiv and Tus until the morning of her wedding. Her hiding place of choice was the war room. She was already prepared for her wedding. Her hair had been placed over her head in an elegant bun. She had also been given a wonderful, simple, white gown to wear. She couldn't help but feel beautiful in the clothes that she was wearing.

She took her time to read scrolls in the war room, learning things about the combat of the Persians. She had to hand it to them, they were good at gaining more land for themselves, but that wasn't the only thing a warrior needed.

"So you must be Tus?" she asked after tiring of the oldest brother staring at the back of her head. She had allowed him to stand there a few moments before she let him know that he was there. "How did you know I was here? And better yet, how did you know that I was Tus?" he asked as he folded his arms over his chest as she turned to look at him. By Gods, she was gorgeous, he thought as he stared at her. From behind he had admired her, but now that he saw her face and she was stunning.

"I heard you come in, you weren't very silent, not like Dastan tried to be. And if you were Garsiv you would have came at me already and told me to get the hell out of here before the wedding." she said.

"That is where you are wrong sweetheart, he would have taken one look at you and he would have forgotten all his anger on having to marry you." he said as he continued to stare at her. That is when he noticed her scar. It didn't matter though. She was still wonderfully beautiful. That is where his father was wrong. Tus would have married her, and he would have done so proudly.

"It is almost that time you know…. You could still run I guess." he said.

"If I were going to run I would have done so two days ago. I do not fear this marriage." she laughed as she started to walk towards the exit of the war room. Tus stopped her gently by laying a hand on her shoulder. She turned and stared him in the eye. Garsiv was going to have a tough time with this woman. She was not demure like other woman of Persia.

She believed that she was mans equal, he could tell just by looking at her. It was the way she held herself erect, staring him in the eye. He leaned forward and kissed her cheek in blessing. She bobbed her head to accept his blessing and then she moved on.

It was time now for her wedding. She was going to stall it for a few moments, but she decided that was not what she really wanted. She wanted to hurry and marry this man so she could spar with him. She would not know the man he really was until she fought him in battle.

Tus opened the door for her and she waltzed through it. There they separated, she returning to the bridal party, and him joining his father and brothers in the gardens.

Women immediately surrounded her and fussed over her appearance. She was already ready for the wedding, but instead now she was having to let these women apply more blush so she would appear to be the blushing bride that she clearly wasn't.

After another ten long minutes of this torture the women released her to go to her wedding.

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He stood at the altar already waiting, staring angrily at his brothers. Both his brothers wore wide grins on their faces, which meant they had seen her, when he couldn't manage to even get a hint of where she had been in the palace. He took it personally that he wasn't able to hunt her down, when he in turn was an avid hunter.

He felt as if his heart was in his throat the longer that he waited. His skin crawled with anticipation. The waiting was killing him. He wanted to get married and get it over with so he could go back to his military life.

He was not going to be a good husband, so he wanted to hurry as fast as he could to finish this day. His plans were to marry her and then get back to training. He had no interest in the festivities that were to follow the wedding ceremony. He didn't even have interest in the wedding night. That was all until he saw her.

His brother's saw her first and he followed their gaze to her. His breath caught in his throat at the woman who stood before him. He didn't know what to think, in fact he was sure he forgot how to think. He still felt angered by this arrangement of his father's, yet how could he not contemplate the possibilities of being wed to such a lovely woman?

She stood there only a moment before she hurried down to the alter where he stood with as much grace that she could muster. Splendid, she was absolutely splendid. The sun was setting behind her, making her hair seem to be on fire. Her skin glistened in the setting sunlight, her eyes sparkled like none other. His father was right; she is an angel. Yet in the back of his mind something warned him about this woman.

She was beautiful enough for Tus to wed, so why was she now standing beside him, looking into his eyes as if she were his equal? No humility and not a demure bone in her body is what her eyes told him. Those beautiful lime green eyes held nothing but strength and determination. She was a strong Princess, there was no doubt to that. He was so captured by her that it took him several minutes to spot her scar.

It was like he snapped out of a trance that she had enthralled him in. That was a scar made by a sword, the tip of a sword actually. He was a warrior, and he could spot these sorts of things nearly a mile away. Where in the ever expanding empire of Persia had this Princess been wounded? He was told she was a desert Princess of some hostile nomads that his father was making peace with because they took up an entire valley of sand, yet could her home be so hostile that she now stands before him with a battle scar?

A priest stepped forward then and began the ceremony, which tore his thoughts away from her scar to the task at hand; him marrying this wounded angel. His heart rate sped up, and he closed his eyes to gain a moment of closure. This was the end of his single life, and the beginning to a life with this woman that he knew nothing about. Dread hit him hard, but he swallowed it like a man. In fact he didn't even know her name. His throat closed up and he choked, gaining a look from the priest.

He nodded that he was alright, and the priest started up again. The ceremony past with a blur until the priest asked for her right hand, and his left hand. He cut a thin yet deep line into both of their palms with a gilded dagger. She did not flinch, which Garsiv noted. They were then instructed to hold hands. She held her palm up, waiting for him to grasp it. He did so tentively, letting his fingers slide against hers, and slowly grasping her hand. Through this blood bond, they were now wed. The priest then wrapped a red ribbon to around their hands and once he tied it, it sealed their marriage. Cheers exploded around them and his brother's clapped him on his shoulders.

None of that mattered to him though, for all he saw was her. She was the only person who existed to him at the moment. It was such a sudden infatuation that his head was spinning because of it.

The rest of his day went by in such a blur that is made him sick to his stomach. They celebrated, danced, ate rich food, and drank sweet wine. It all went by too quickly and before he knew it, it was night time, and he realized that he and his bride had not said one word to each other throughout the entire day.

The priest met them outside his chambers and took off the red ribbon that binds them. He spoke a few words of prayer to guide them through the rest of the night. After the priest was done, she was the first to enter his chambers. He stood there for a moment looking after, trying to find the courage to go confront his wife for the first time.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Okay in the first chapter I realized after I posted it that I had spelled Hassansins, Hassassins. So when I get a chance I am going to go back and fix that mistake, just know that it is fixed in this chapter. Sorry about that. And here is the chapter for real this time :)**

It was like a lifetime of standing outside his room as he tried to find to courage to enter. She was in there waiting for him. He wasn't exactly sure what he expected to find. He imagined that she would wait for him shyly as if she did not know what to expect, but he didn't know her and he didn't see her as that sort of woman. She had a fire behind her lime green eyes that just said fierce. So waiting shyly was not something that he really thought she would do. He wasn't sure what he would find, but he would never know standing outside of his room staring at the open door.

He swallowed hard as he found the needed courage to go and face her. He walked in with his head held high. He wished that she had just been a demure woman because he had not been expecting a sword slashing near his face as soon as he entered. He spun out of the way quickly, ripping his mind away from his disturbed thoughts. On instinct he sought out his best blade on the nearest wall and grabbed it in a firm hand.

He wasn't sure what had happened at first, he expected the worse, an assassin. But when he turned and found his wife, sword in hand, taking a battle stance, he was sure he had gone insane. Not only did she look deadly calm, she seemed like she was experienced with the sword in her hand. She did not hold it like someone who did not know how to use it.

He again spun out of the way just in time for the blade that she stabbed at him. He wasn't sure what was going on, but he was sure that he was going to see this fight to the end. He parried her blade as it came towards him at a speed of a skilled swordsman. She fell open as she tried to gain her footing because he was taller than her, so he took his chance and tried to jabbed his sword towards her middle.

She feinted to her right though avoiding his blade and gaining on his blind spot. It was as if she had planned him to open up like he did. She was better than good. He had trained many men and it always took them weeks to find his blind spot. This woman, his wife found it in less than a minute. He gave credit when it was due, and she was worthy to receive such credit. She nicked his clothing with her sword before he twirled like a deadly dancer to turn aside her blade with his. She had just missed nicking his skin. He was thankful that he too was a skilled swordsman so he had the speed and agility to stand up to someone as agile as her.

For a few minutes their swords clashed together in loud musical symphony. Sparks flew off their blades as they evaded each other with their swords. He noted her spectacular foot work which was better than his. The only problem she had against him was that he was stronger than her as well as taller. They came to a moment of stillness with their blades as they stared hard at each other, their blades resting hard against each other. Since he was stronger he was able to make her buckle beneath him. She yelped as she let go of her sword and his sword slashed the back of her hand. It was the same hand that was already cut on the palm from the priest earlier that day.

It was a clean cut and started to bleed immediately. At first he thought that the battle was over because he had drew first blood, yet it wasn't. It had only begun he realized grimly as she turned away from him. She grabbed his second favorite blade that he had one in a match from his own father. It was a good blade, but he kept it for remembrance. It was not a battle tool for his wife to use against him. She turned to face him, ready to keep fighting, blood running down her arm, and dripping on to her pretty white dress.

He lowered his blade a fraction as he stared at the sword in her hand. He didn't want to give up in this fight, but he didn't want her using that sword. She followed his gaze to the sword and raised an eyebrow in question. As a good person she put back that blade and grabbed a different one next to it. He was thankful beyond words that she had understood his silent look.

Then immediately they were back to this fight. He still didn't understand why they were fighting. He figured that she was testing his worth as a man to take care of her. When he put it in terms like this he swelled with pride. He would win this fight, for he could not be beaten by his wife of all people, and he needed to exert his force over her. She needed to learn her place.

He came at her first with his mind filled with thoughts of winning. He didn't even falter when he noticed how much blood she was losing from that clean cut. It was clean, but it was deep. He swooped his sword into an arc towards her. She dove to miss the blade, which he expected her to do. He spun just in time to stop her blade that came towards him. She looked confused for a moment, and he let the joy of her being at his mercy for a moment wash over him.

It was something to watch her fight in her wedding dress. It just occurred to him suddenly that she was wearing her wedding dress still. And it was now covered down the front with her blood. Her complexion looked paler from loss of blood but she was still determined to fight. She whirled her sword towards his middle almost catching him. He hopped back so to avoid the tip of her sword by a mere inch.

He knew she was bleeding too much to continue though, so as much as he did not want to, he threw down his sword. She paused and her brows drew together in question. It was like she did not understand why he would want to stop all of a sudden. He gestured to her hand with his chin and she looked down at herself.

She had not even noticed until then how bad her hand really was. It might have been a clean cut but minutes after the skin had pulled more apart allowing more blood flow, it actually allowed a better chance of infection. Which all meant that her husband had marked her now twice for life on one hand. She dropped the sword and let it clank heavily on the ground.

"I will call for a physician." he stated as he turned suddenly away from her. It was the first time he had spoken to her. He would never have dreamed those would be the first words he would say to her. He stopped when he heard the sounds of ripping. When he turned around to glance back at her, she was already wrapping the wound with some of her wedding dress, trying to stifle the bleeding. She obviously was not materialistic because she did not seem to care in the least that her dress was blood soaked and now missing a piece of the cloth.

He turned again and walked out into the hall and ordered a servant to fetch him the physician. He saw the look of question in the servants face, but he was a prince and he did not have to explain. He hurried back into his quarters and found her sitting at his desk applying pressure to her hand by holding it up on her chest and pressing down with the other hand.

"What are you?" he asked as he drew as close as he dared to his wife for the moment.

"A woman." she said as if he were dumb for even asking. She looked up into his intense brown eyes. Her statement only fueled his anger. He took a few steps towards her in anger and it didn't even faze her.

"You know what I mean!" he shouted at her. He never envisioned fighting with his wife on his wedding night either. As he waited for her to answer him like an obedient wife it occurred to him that he didn't even know her name. Terror struck him like a bolt. He married a woman that he knew absolutely nothing about. He tried to remember if anyone had said her name to him but not one person had.

"I am your wife." she said, drawing him out of his thoughts. After it happened upon him that he didn't know her name all else didn't matter. She obviously had been trained to fight, but he could tell she was royalty. She sat in his chair with all the regality of a princess. She crossed one leg over the other and watched him carefully. Analyzing him with her fierce green eyes.

"I don't know your name." he whispered in shame. She sighed at him and turned away. He would never know that it only upset her that he did not know the name of the woman he had conceded to in a fight. "I am Shraga of Persia." she spat heatedly.

Before they could converse more the physician entered the room quickly.

"What happened my princess?" asked the physician.

Garsiv was sure she would tell the elderly man what really happened but she didn't. "I tripped over one of my husband's many rugs and cut my hand on one of his many swords." she said. The physician nodded as he unwrapped her hand and saw that it was a deep cut.

"I will need to sew the skin together on the palm because it has split open as well as sew the skin on the outer portion of your hand my dear. This is going to hurt I assure you." said the physician.

"I doubt it hurts worse than being held down at twelve years old so they could sew up my eye." she said, pointing to that thin scar.

"I see your point." replied the physician with a warm smile.

"My prince, I must ask you comfort your wife while I start, just in case she may need it."

Garsiv nodded and came to stand behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. It may have seemed that she has trying to help steady her, but she didn't need to be steadied.

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He had only felt her tense one time the entire time the physician had worked on her hand. He waited until the elderly man left before he let his hands slide from his wife's slender shoulders. He tried not to think about how she was warm, or when his thumb had brushed against the skin on her neck it was softer than he would have imagined.

He set aside those thoughts and started to pick up the swords that they had been fighting with. He turned his mind back to their fight.

"You are very skilled with a blade. Who taught you?" asked Garsiv as he put away the swords in their respective places.

"My father." she said, her voice sounding distant, as if she was trying to cover up her emotions. He knew she must be a long way from home, so she must have missed her family greatly. But her voice sounded too distant to seem like she could be upset that she wouldn't see her family for a while.

"Why did you attack me?" he asked as he shrugged out his outer robe, revealing his dark green tunic and black trous. She was quiet for a long while before she answered. They just stared at each other, her green eyes boring into his.

"I wanted to know if you could use these swords that clutter your room." she stated with a smile.

He was not sure why it warmed his heart, but it did. This woman valued a warrior, and he was a warrior. "Well did I meet your expectations?" he asked as he scratched the side of his face. His fingers worked through his beard that he had just decided a week before the wedding that he was going to grow.

"You get too confident and leave yourself open." she said as she stood up.

He looked so perplexed, and he would have argued the point, but he looked at her wedding dress instead. The blood was drying, and he knew that must have been uncomfortable for her.

"I will walk you to your room so you can bathe and change." he said as he motioned for her to go to the door to leave.

"There is no need, I can bathe here, and you have clothes that I can borrow for the night." she said as she walked to where he keeps his clothes. He never once questioned why she already knew where his clothes where. He was too busy watching her, making sure that she was not going to try to strike again. She pulled out a long black robe that was worn after baths. She then walked to the bathroom, starting to strip off her dress as she went. He wanted to watch her, but he averted his gaze to the ground, feeling ashamed if he tried to sneak a peek.

She left the door open and he could hear the dress finally fall from her body, but he did not dare look. She may be his wife, but it just felt wrong. It was almost like she was testing him again. He wasn't sure if this was a test, what sort of test it would be. Was this what married life was going to be? He was sure if this was a test, in some way he would be failing.

He lost track of time for the next time he chanced looking up, she was standing in front of him wearing his robes and her hair was damp. She looked so calm. It was obvious what was supposed to happen now, and she didn't even look afraid. It didn't matter that she did not look afraid though, she didn't look willing. He wanted to, that was for sure. How could he not want to consummate his marriage to her? She was beautiful, but he valued himself as a man of substance. So he could not sleep with her without knowing more about her. He didn't even know her name until an hour ago.

He was not going to consummate his marriage to someone who was not willing. "Well… goodnight Shraga…" he said as he turned and started to walk to his bed. He hoped she would just leave without another word.

He stopped when he heard her following. He sighed loudly, not even trying to make himself quiet about it. "What are you doing?" he asked when he turned and looked at her. His hands were on his hips as he stared down his nose at her.

"I am going to bed with my husband." she stated as if he were growing dumber by the minute. He shook his head in thought. How was he going to explain that he wanted her to go to her own quarters? "You have your own quarters." he told to her feeling that being blunt she would appreciate more.

She frowned at him and crossed her arms over her chest. She knew this would happen, him pushing her out of his bed, she just did not see it happening on their wedding night. "Do you not feel comfortable sharing your bed with your wife?" she asked, never taking her eyes off of him.

There were many things he was not comfortable with, and this would be one of them. Garsiv was a warrior and he knew he would run headlong into battle with a dull blade without worrying if he would live to see another day. However he could not bring himself to just allow himself to sleep alongside her. He was not fearful that he would not be able to control himself in her presence, he was a warrior, he had plenty of control. He just didn't want to give up what he was familiar with. He was used to sleeping alone. He was not ready to accept her into his life, or his bed.

His eyes silently pleaded with her to turn away so he could go back to what he was familiar with. He knew that she knew what he wanted; she was just unwilling to comply with his wishes. Her eyes flashed with anger, and he knew he was in for it. "Let me explain something to you Garsiv, my husband: I did not marry you because it was my choice. Do you think I want to be here? Do you think that I wanted your father to come and tell me what I needed to do? Do you think that I wanted my father to sell me into this marriage? No, I had no choice in any of this. So do you think I really care that you don't want me here? No I don't. I am here, and you are going to have to learn to live with me."

As she spoke, the color red rose from her chest up her neck to her face. It was almost disturbing that she turned as red as her hair when she was angry. Her words rang true though. None of this had been her choice. She had been ripped away from her everyday life to marry him. This was just as much against her choice as it was his. Arranged marriages hurt both parties involved.

Then when she finished speaking she slapped him hard with her good hand. He had never been hit by any other woman than his late mother. It angered him but he could not bring himself to retaliate because he understood her anger. He almost expected her to break down and start crying like a normal person, but all she did was sigh loudly. It was almost as if she had gotten much needed stress off of her chest. She watched as his cheek turned pink, but seeing it did not make her feel an ounce better, nor had her outburst a few minutes before.

"Goodnight Garsiv." she said as she turned away from him and left the room. Once she left he actually rubbed the side of his face. She hit hard for a woman it reminded him of his mother for a moment. He felt good that she left, even if it was because she was angered at him.

Xxxxxxxxxxx

"Please calm down princess." pleaded one of the servants. Hassansin's had the patience of the most skilled hunter waiting for the kill, but she was young. She had a lot of things she was taught, but she still had not fully matured yet. Hot tears ran down her face. She had too many conflicting emotions. From this day forward she was no longer one of her beloved Hassansins. She was a princess of Persia. She had to devote her life to that man who did not even want her.

She thought that this was going to be easier. She had kept her composure until now. It was not as easy as she thought it would be. Her aunt had told her she would feel this way, unwanted. She hadn't believed her though. She should have run away the night she camped in the desert on the way here. She had made it a mile away from the camp before she had told herself that she had to do this for her family. She wondered if they understood the magnitude of what she had been sold into.

She hated that she allowed herself to hurt this much. It was okay that she feared for the future that would be absent of the people she had grown to love in her sixteen years of life. She knew that would hurt her, but she did not think that it would hurt her more that her husband did not want her. It did though and it made her sick to her stomach.

Shraga knew it was because she wanted to just feel welcomed. It meant nothing that Tus and Dastan welcomed her, she was not married to them. She picked up a vase and threw it at the wall as hard as she could. It shattered into a thousand little pieces. The servant coward in fear, unsure what she was going to do for her mistress. Shraga sighed knowing she was making an ass of herself.

She bent down and started to sweep the shards into a pile so she could clean them. "Princess allow me." said the servant as she too bent beside Shraga. Shraga shook her head no. "You did not make this mess, I did." stated Shraga as she continued to clean her mess. The servant decided then that she liked her mistress very much. She was much better than some of the King's wives who could not even feed themselves.

"What is your name?" asked Shraga, of the woman who was helping her clean her mess.

"I am Parisa." said the servant. She had never been asked her name except by Prince Dastan.

"Thank you for helping me." said Shraga as they finished cleaning side by side.

"Parisa, please keep this night to yourself." said Shraga as they both rose to look at each other.

"Of course princess." replied Parisa as she bowed her head. Shraga smiled and then sighed. "Are you okay princess?" asked Parisa as she sat the shards she had cleaned up onto a tray so she could take them away when she retired.

"I am fine." lied Shraga as she looked towards her bed. It occurred to her that she really did not want to be alone. She had been alone ever since she had gotten here, and truth she would be alone here the rest of her life. The king had told her she could never tell Garsiv what she was. So a part of her would always be beside herself. She looked to Parisa.

Shraga couldn't help but want a friend. She was upset even worse as she knew she could not even befriend the servant. "I thank you for your help Parisa, I am retiring now, you can go." said Shraga with a small smile. Parisa bowed her head respectively and backed out of the room. As the heavy wooden door shut to her room she felt something brush against her bare feet. She did not look down, not even when it started to slither up her ankle.

The viper slithered up the length of her body, beneath Garsiv's robes. It searched for comfort and warmth. It peeked its deadly head out of her top and then slivered around her shoulders so she could wear him like a boa. She smoothed a finger over his head and whispered to him in her native Hassansin tongue. The viper flickered out as his tongue at her in response.

She turned back to her bed and folded down the coverlet and found two more of her vipers coiled there. She reached her hands out to both of them and the flicked their tongues against her fingertips. She then lay down and allowed the snakes to coil around her. In moments she was asleep and welcoming of the nostalgia that the vipers offered her. So much for her wedding night was her last thought.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: I wish more people were reviewing, but I do have to say that a bunch of people apparently like this because they have added to their favorites or subscriptions. Anyways, please read and review, and I hope you enjoy this next chapter. Also thanks to everyone who has reviewed or emailed me. It does help inspire people when they get feedback.**

She unwrapped the sword that she had brought with her as a gift to her husband. She did not give it to him last night, the night of their wedding, because she had wanted to know if he could use a blade. She had found out he could, so she wanted to give it to him. Well to be honest she was not sure if she really wanted to give it to him, but she needed to show him that she brought things to this marriage other than herself.

The hilt was made of gold, and the tempered steel of the blade was burned black. The fashion of the sword was a scimitar, it would allow him to be quicker than he was. It would also allow him to duel wield with another weapon. She hoped he would enjoy this gift she was giving him as much as she enjoyed it.

She had watched this sword as it was forged, and it hurt to think of parting with it. She knew though that she had to offer him something so he would be more accepting of her. Already she could feel the devotion to the man start to set in. She was not sure if she actually liked him, for she knew naught about him, or if it was just her Hassansin nature.

She gently took the sword out of the wrappings that she had secured them in for the journey to the palace. She would have kept it for herself, she was selfish about these sorts of things, but it was too heavy for her. So naturally she would give it to her husband. She hoped he would see the quality and be thankful for it. Garsiv did seem to understand what good craftsmanship was. When she had picked up one of his best swords last night during the fight, he had silently pleaded with her not to use it.

She had put back the sword because he had sentimental value to it. She did not quite understand why he would not want to use such a good sword, but it was not any of her business at the moment. She would eventually ask him about it, but until then she would just have to wonder silently.

She sat the blade down so she could remove the viper that curled around her arm as if it were a branch it could laze upon. She sat the snake down and watched as it slithered away from her into a dark corner of the room. She really was glad that they stayed hidden from the servants who flooded her room when she was not there to clean. For if they were found they would be killed as if they were pests instead of pets.

After standing from her sitting position on the floor she picked the sword back up and left her chambers, seeking out her husband's which was a few doors away. As she approached a dozing servant that stood next to her husband's door, he snapped too when she cleared her throat gently. His eyes darted to the sword immediately.

"A gift." she whispered as she motioned for him to open the door.

"My princess, it is yet early, and my prince still slumbers." argued the servant in a gentle whisper.

At first, a rude remark leapt to her tongue, but she stilled it. "Please open the door, I will be quiet." she said as kindly as she could. She had wanted to ask him how dare he question her, but she didn't. Just because she was the princess, did not give her the right to boss her husband's servants around.

"You do not understand princess, he does not like being disturbed in the mornings." pleaded the servant in a desperate whisper.

"All you have to do is open the door for me so I don't drop this. I will take whatever punishment he can come up with for me giving him a present." she said reassuring the servant that everything would be alright. The man stood still a moment before finally nodding and doing as she wished. He opened the door silently, and held it open for her.

She thanked him and entered the room. Garsiv lay in his bed, snoring softly due to the fact he was sleeping on his back. She could see him in the low candle light. She was thankful his candles had not yet burned out because it was still dark outside. She carefully picked her way to his bedside so she could put the sword on the table next to his bed so he would see it when he woke up.

She managed to put the sword down before she realized that she no longer heard him snoring. She cursed herself and all her Hassansin ways for not being quieter as she snuck through his room. She went over it in her head, and she had made no noise entering or walking to where she stood. It occurred to her that the door creaked once while closing, blowing her cover. She looked over and he was looking at her. She guessed she should be thankful that he was a light sleeper.

He looked angry, just like the servant said he would. He sat up in his bed, looking all the more angry as he rose into a sitting position. "What are you doing?" he asked, his voice hard, sounding almost like a growl. She sighed and looked hard at him. He rubbed the corner of his eye with a finger as they stared at each other, he was trying to remove the sleep from his eyes with an angry desperation. He only managed to irritate it though.

"I brought you a wedding gift." she said finally. His face lost its hard angered edge, and softened. It did not matter what it was, he had to be nice because she thought enough of him to bestow a present upon him. He got up from the bed, revealing that all he wore was a pair of buckskin trous. She looked at her husband when he was not looking at her. He took care of his body that was for sure. She averted her gaze as he came to stand next to her.

"Well, give me the gift." he said, holding out his hands as if he were a child. He had not seen what she had brought yet. She picked up the sword and turned around. His eyes widened. That was a real weapon, one that was forged correctly, and with expert care. And it was a right proper present as well. He was stunned speechless as he let his eyes wonder over the sword.

He removed it from her hands with ease. He tested its weight and found it to near to perfect for his stature. He backed away from her a few paces and then spun it around, testing how it cut through the air, singing as it did so.

She sat on the edge of his bed, committing his form to memory as he tested the sword more thoroughly. She was blessed that Prince Garsiv was a handsome man. More handsome than the men of her village by far. By the time he had finished amusing himself with her present, he had a fine sheen of sweat that dampened his chest and back that glistened in the candle light. She had not realized how much time had passed until she noticed that the sun had nearly risen all the way once he had finished.

He turned to look at her, a real smile gracing his lips for the first time since she had married him. "I like it. I thank you. I regret that I don't have any trinkets to bestow upon you. I will find you a necklace the first chance I get… One that matches your eyes." he said, actually excited about the prospect for repaying her kindness to him.

He stopped talking when he saw her face fall. He remembered then that she was not materialistic about personal items, things that most women that he knew held value to. She would be happier with a book more likely, than a piece of jewelry. "A necklace sounds most appropriate." she whispered though, so not to be rude.

"What would you rather have?" he asked, trying to please her since she had managed to please him so greatly. He twirled the blade through the air, enjoying how it felt, as he waited for her to answer him.

"A present is not something that I pick out. It is something that you wish to give me. If you wish me to have a necklace that matches my eyes, then it is the most perfect gift you can give." she said, a small smile gracing her lips. She had to understand Persian men were different than the men in her village. These men gave women trinkets. Hassansin men gave woman things they could actually use. He blinked a few times, trying to judge her reaction.

"Either way I will get you something. I am most thankful for the sword. It is great and I will forever cherish it." he said, actually meaning every word that fell forth from his lips. It was a touching moment, revealing things about both of them.

"Cherish it by using it Garsiv. Don't hang it like an ornament to be looked at." she said as she gestured around his room. He liked her statement, but it was something a man would say to him, not his wife. He was going to have to grow used to her being open with him, speaking to him as if she were his equal. He wanted to correct her, but she seemed as if she was a woman who would not be tamed of her ways. He didn't want to tame the woman though who had gave him such a rich gift.

"Thank you again." he said with a smile.

"You are welcome. I will leave you now, as I am sure you have many things you must do today." she said awkwardly. She picked at a stray stand on his robe that she was still wearing. She thought this was going to be a quicker visit and she had not changed yet.

"Shraga, let us dine tonight together, just the two of us." he said, actually trying to make a step to getting to know her more. He might as well start sooner than later. She nodded as she stood from her sitting spot on the bed.

"I will look forward to it." she said.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Did she not think that her future brother-in-laws would want swords like this as well?" asked Tus as he still admired Garsiv's wedding present.

"I would say she didn't see the need to bestow presents on you when she has me to bestow them upon." gloated Garsiv, his chest swelling with pride. Tus nodded and handed the sword over to Dastan, who also admired it appropriately.

"So how was the wedding night? Better than you thought it was going to be?" asked Tus with a laugh. Garsiv laughed and shook his head. "It was a wedding night unlike any other." stated Garsiv.

"Do we even want to know?" asked Dastan, slightly disturbed by talking about Garsiv's sex life.

"I walked in my room, and she attacked me." said Garsiv, knowing that they would think the opposite of what really happened.

"Ah dear baby brother, turning into a man, woman attacking him at his door." snickered Tus with a wide smile.

"No, Tus, I mean she really attacked me. She had a sword and everything. She is actually a very skilled fighter." explained Garsiv.

Both of his brothers stared at him as if he was crazy. They blinked a few times before they looked at each other in surprise. "Who won the fight?" asked Dastan.

"I threw down my sword because she was losing a lot of blood so I suppose she won because I threw down my sword. Or maybe I won because I drew first blood…" said Garsiv as he took back his sword. He put it in the scabbard, and patted the hilt in pride.

"What do you mean that she was losing a lot of blood?" asked Tus. This entire conversation was bizarre and Dastan and Tus were having a hard time comprehending it.

"I cut her on the back of her hand during the fight." said Garsiv as he caught a glimpse of his from the training grounds. She was near the gardens. She was with Tus's mother, who was the closest thing to a mother that Garsiv had after his mother had passed. He wondered what they were speaking about.

"So you guys never got around to consummating the marriage then did you?" asked Dastan as he drew Garsiv out of his deep thoughts.

"No we didn't. To be honest I think I want to get to know her better before we try." said Garsiv honestly.

"I think I respect that decision more for the both of you since you guys were thrown together into this marriage." said Tus, as he followed Garsiv's gaze to Shraga. He too wondered what his mother spoke to Shraga about.

"So are we going to give that sword the right testing or, we going to just admire its make from afar?" asked Dastan as he pulled out his own sword to challenge Garsiv. Garsiv smiled and pulled his sword back out from the scabbard, and before he knew it they were sparring.

He was faster now because of the curvature of the blade. He should have taken up this style of sword long ago. He usually always beat Dastan because he had more training, but today Dastan did not stand a chance against him. It only made him more prideful.

The sparring always ended in first blood, and Garsiv slashed a thin cut into Dastan's left shoulder. Dastan sighed in defeated and wiped the blood off of his shoulder. "I need to get a blade like that, you are much faster than you ever have been." said Dastan with a look of envy to his brother.

"Poor brother, you will never be as fast as me." joked Garsiv with a hefty laugh. Tus patted Dastan on the back and told him that he should not let Garsive get to him. Dastan nodded and knew he was just being picked on because he was the youngest.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

She had been exploring most of her day after she had returned to her chambers to get dressed. It was a tough decision on what to wear, because most of her wardrobe consisted of black desert robes. It was cooler in the city, so there was not need to dress as if she was in the desert.

She desperately needed a change in wardrobe since this was her new home. She settled on a long navy blue robe that covered her under tunic and trous. On the navy blue robe it was lined with silver brocade. It was the most expensive piece she owned. If she was going to be a Persian princess, she knew she was going to dress richer than she was used to.

After she had dressed she left her chambers to explore her new home. She had explored it in secret when she had arrived, but now she wanted explore where others could see her. She started on the floor she was on. They were just rooms. She found that she was next to Dastan's room, and down the hall were Tus and Garsiv's rooms. There were other rooms on this floor but she did not know who they belonged to. She figured the King's chambers where on the floor above this one, as well as his wives chambers.

She started down the marbles steps in search of a formal library. She had already found the king's private study the second day she was there. She had not stayed long enough to learn anything in his private study because to be honest she did not care to know such things. So she wanted to find the more formal library to look at what they offered everyone else to know.

The library was expansive and it would take years to catalog everything. She realized that upon entering the double golden doors leading inside. She felt the urge to learn more than what she had been taught in her village but today was not her day to do so.

She was cut off as a woman entered the library behind her.

"You are a curious one. Marry my son, and then come to the library. Most women would have already have been making enemies in the harem." said the woman, drawing Shraga's gaze to her. That was one place that Shraga had been avoiding. There was a small harem on the floor for the Prince's, she would be the only inhabitant as of yet in that room. She had heard women in there, she figured that it was just women from the king's harem trying to find more privacy.

"I have no need to make enemies. I would rather spend my time with something more worthwhile." stated Shraga with a smile. She looked at this woman; she was almost a splitting image of Tus. She had light brown hair and cool blue eyes. "Did you say Garsiv was your son? I thought his mother had passed." asked Shraga, confused.

The woman smiled sadly and linked her arms with Shraga. "Walk with me and I will explain, my dear. I am Azada, Tus's mother. I call Garsiv my son not only because his mother has passed, but I practically raised the child. His mother was the conniving sort, always trying to gain favor with the king when she should have been caring for her children. She had Garsiv and Dara. Garsiv was the only babe who survived. I still to this day think Dara passed from lack of a proper mother. She took ill as a babe. I wish there were more I could have done for her but I was caring for Tus and my two other children. So when she had Garsiv, I made sure that he survived, when she wouldn't have."

She explained slowly as they walked together out of the library's exit into the gardens. It was a lovely day, and with the spring wind carried the sweet scent of flowers. "I am sure that he would rather call you mother than someone who did not take care of him." said Shraga, as she caught glimpse of her husband from afar. He and Dastan were sparring. It warmed her to the core to see him actually using the sword she had given him. At least it was being used.

"I love him dearly, and I wanted to tell you to be gentle with him. He does not notice, but he has a soft heart, easy to be broken. Do not be the woman to break him. Take care of my son." said Azada with tears in her cool blue eyes. Shraga instantly loved this woman. It was because she understood the magnitude of what it was to be a wife. Men did not understand this concept, nor did some women. Hassansin women were fiercely devoted to their husbands, and she could tell that Azada was fiercely devoted to her husband as well.

"I will do my hardest to not see him hurt." whispered Shraga as she gazed deeply into Azada's eyes.

"I think I am already starting to like you. You do not try, you do. You do not care to make petty friendships and enemies in the harem, you would rather learn. Seems as if my husband did a good job of picking you out. I can also see why he chose you for Garsiv instead of my own flesh and blood Tus. At first I will not lie I was angered that Garsiv would marry before Tus, but now after meeting you, I understand. You would be too much for Tus to handle. I know this is my first time meeting you but I am good at reading people. You are quick witted, and not so easily cooled off if you are angered. I bet you also speak your mind without fear of the repercussions. You have the makes of a great princess, but not a queen" said Azada.

She was truthful about what she said. It did not matter how much control training she had, sometimes she just could not turn her mind off. "You are correct. I do not care as to what trouble my tongue will get me, and I do have a hard time cooling down once I am angry. And I have no need to want to be a queen." Shraga said unashamed.

"Well then let me ask you, why does my son have a nice bruise on his cheek? Am I correct that he did not slip getting out of his bath? It was you who gave it to him?" asked Azada concerned.

"Yes. I apologized, I assure you." said Shraga so she would not have to explain more about what happened. Azada's cool blue eyes softened. She really did like Shraga already.

"It is now time for me to be the nosey mother-in-law. How was your wedding night my dear?" asked Azada.

They walked deeper into the garden, away from the servants and other inhabitants of the garden. "I am sure that it was not the wedding night that others would want to have." said Shraga as she glanced over her shoulder, making sure that she could still see Garsiv. He was still there, laughing now and showing his sword off to more people.

"Whatever do you mean?" Azada asked more than curious as to what Shraga meant. Azada stopped them near a garden bench and urged Shraga to sit down. Shraga sat and knew she was in for a deep talk with her mother-in-law. Azaada perched down next to her like a mother hen. Shraga thought sweet of the woman to care so much for a son that was on hers.

"We have not consummated the marriage as of yet. I think Garsiv could see that I was not ready, and I don't think he is either, so he sent me to my room. That is why I slapped him. I thought that I was not wanted, but on further personal evaluation I realized that he is just as afraid as I am." explained Shraga as she watched her husband swing his sword around adoringly. It was semi truth, to this she knew.

Azada touched Shraga's arm in comfort. "Do not do anything until you are ready my dear. There is nothing wrong with making a man wait. I did the same very thing to Sharaman. I was blessed that he is such a patient man. Garsiv has that same patience of his father but he also has that same hot headedness of his mother. He will wait until you are ready but he might try to push on occasion." said Azada with a graceful smile. Shraga smiled back after she let her eyes linger on the older woman's hand. She was still so youthful for a woman nearly in her fifties. Shraga admired people who took care of themselves, and she could see that Azada was one of those women.

"I will consider your words carefully." replied Shraga with a smile.

"And just what are we considering?" asked Dastan as he came to stand next to the woman he too called mother. She looked up and stroked her adoptive son's arm.

"She is considering giving me a grandchild since you and Tus won't seem to get married." laughed Azada. Dastan spat at her words and made a face. She frowned though when she realized he was bleeding from his left shoulder. "My dear boy, have you allowed your brothers to hurt you again?" asked Azada as she reached up and pressed a finger to his wound. He hissed and swatted her hand away.

She laughed at her son and stood, shaking her head. She could see he needed to be sewed up, even if he didn't. "I will speak to you later my dear, I have to go see to my accident prone son." said Azada as she started to push her son towards the palace. Shraga waved after them both and then turned around to see her husband had disappeared.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: So I actually was going to take a small break from this story but then I got several reviews that really made my day, so I had to write this. I don't want to beg for review, but believe me when I say just saying that you like the story, or any feed back at all inspires the author. So please keep up reading and enjoying my story. I might not be able to update until sometime next week, got a lot due in school. Anyways, please let me know what you guys are thinking of my story and I do hope you enjoy this chapter**. **Thank you all for reading**!

"Is that what you expect to wear to your first dinner with my son?" asked Azada as she entered Shraga's room without prior notice. She was well within her right to come in and inspect Shraga, to see if she was up to par with what she considered appropriate. Shraga turned and sighed, knowing the desert garb she was wearing was not good enough. She hung her head for only a moment in shame before she rid herself of it. It was not her fault she did not have anything better to wear.

She could not possibly help that she was born of a people that did not need to wear anything but what kept them protected from the harsh desert sun. There was no point to be ashamed of where the Gods had decided to place her in this world. She shouldn't be ashamed of what could not be helped.

"It is all I have, I am a desert Princess." explained Shraga as she turned back to look at herself in the looking glass, and this time there was a slight gleam of pride behind her lime green eyes. Azada smiled at Shraga's back. This girl had the making of a great queen, it was a shame that the King had not chosen her for Tus. Shraga was good not to show that she was shamed in any way, and a good queen did the same. Azada couldn't change anything, and she wouldn't have. She stuck to her previous notion that Shraga would be too much for Tus to handle.

As Shraga peered at herself in the looking glass, she noticed two other women enter the room to join them. They carried clothes with them, and a quaint smile on both of their pretty faces. Shraga knew she owed Azada for her supplying her with clothing for her dinner tonight with her husband. It was a very kind gesture, and it was something that Shraga would not soon forget. She could already feel that certain kinship start to develop for Azada anchor itself into her heart. It wouldn't be too long before Shraga could say she might even love the woman as a second mother.

"Come here my dear, let me dress you. These are my daughter's Naheed and Sanaz, they are both near your size so they are giving you some of their smaller things because your hips are smaller than theirs. You weren't graced with wide baby bearing hips, don't get me wrong, your hips have potential, but they aren't the hips of my daughters. Their things will be most suitable until we can get you your own things to wear." said Azada with a gentle smile.

`Shraga let herself eye her hips. She actually had always thought of them as too wide, and she took it as a compliment that they weren't as baby bearing as she thought. She had no wish to bear children anytime soon, so it warmed her to think that her hips didn't have the baby bearing appeal to them.

Shraga bowed her head in thanks as she looked back towards them and the sisters giggled together. That is when Shraga noticed that Naheed and Sanaz where twins. Both had their father's brown eyes and their mother's light brown hair, and looked identical to one another. Naheed stepped forward and held up a dark green garment that looked like a thin material tunica dress. Shraga aged the twins to be around her age. She couldn't help but wonder how many more siblings there were for her to meet in this palace.

"You can see through it." protested Shraga as she stared at the garment with a certain look of disbelief on her face. Naheed and Sanaz both laughed together again. Shraga's brow furrowed as she stared at the siblings like they were a bit mad. She did not understand why they were so amused by her complaint.

"That is the point. He is your husband, and he has the right to look upon you." said Sanaz as she held up a similar tunica but of a pale blue color and golden brocade. Shraga nervously ran a hand through her hair as she looked at both tunicas, considering them. This was a cruel joke, it had to be. They could not really think for her to wear either one of those, could they?

She looked them all in the eye and realized that they wanted her to wear one of them. She swallowed back her anger. These were the clothes that she was going to have to wear because this was her life now. And this was the way of the Persians. Seeing how she was now a Persian princess, this was what she was expected to wear for Garsiv.

Shraga knew she would have to wear one of them, and she was to choose which humiliating dress that she was going to have to endure this night in. Azada stared at Shraga amused. Shraga was sure this may be some sort of test, but judging on some of the women that she had seen around the palace, they all dressed like this. Even Azada wore a pale yellow tunica that was see through. While she wore another tunic beneath that to be more modest, she knew that she would not be allowed that same modesty until her husband told her to dress differently.

She pointed to the darker green one, at least it would cover her more than the blue one. It was night time, and the darker one would be more shadowed. Something that she could be more thankful for if she was going to have to wear the thing. Naheed gestured for Shraga to strip so they could dress her in the tunica. Shraga sighed.

She did not want the help to get dressed, she may be a princess, but she did not want to be helped. Yet she did what they wanted, she did not think they would go away unless she did so. She suddenly felt self conscious of her body. She was fit, so that wasn't the problem. It was because she was raised as a warrior, so she was a little more muscular than some women, and she had a few scars on her back.

They weren't terrible scars, just thin ones, like the one on her eye. She had been training since she was about six, and her father had been rough on her. He had told her that she would not learn unless she actually knew what it felt like to get cut with a sword. So ever since her training had started, she had been sparring with a sword. She learned quickly that way too. It also helped her be able to block out the pain that came with getting hurt during battles. Just like she had done the night before when Garsiv had struck her on the back of the hand. She had hardly felt it.

She wished she wasn't so numb to the pain. It made her feel strange sometimes. She wanted to be normal, and blocking out pain was not normal. She sighed again as she started to strip, taking her mind off of when she was a kid. It helped that the women seemed to pay no mind to her body, nor her scars. They must be used to changing in front of so many woman that it did not faze them in any way. She was not used to it so when she stood naked before her mother in law and her sister in laws, she could not help the deep blush that reddened her cheeks. She also could not help that she tried desperately to hide herself from their eyes.

Azada pulled out a box and sat it on an end table in the room. Shraga asked for the garment, and Naheed shook her head no. "We have to ready you first before you can dress." explained Naheed. Shraga nodded, and blushed all the deeper.

"Shraga, what would you rather smell like, lavender or rose? I figured a softer scent would suit you better than my stronger things." asked Azada as she looked up into Shraga's eyes.

"Lavender I suppose." she said as she watched Azada pull out a jar of scented oil. Azada opened the stopper and walked over to Shraga. She started to dab the stopper in various placed on Shraga's body. She started with Shraga's wrists, then the skin in the crook of her arm, then her neck, behind her ears, from between her collar bones, between her breasts, then to her belly button, and then ending with the back of her knees.

It was odd to have her mother in law do this to her, but to be honest once she smelled the lavender react to her body heat, she did enjoy the soft scent that she was putting off. "Now we must paint." said Sanaz as she stepped forward with a few jars of paint. Shraga pulled away when Sanaz pulled out rouge colored paint and went towards her breasts.

"What are you doing?" asked Sanaz as she looked up at Shraga.

"How about what you are doing?" asked Shraga in more of a shrill than she had planned her voice to be.

"I am rouging your nipples. Women are supposed to do it so men can better see them." explained Sanaz as if it should have been nothing but common sense to Shraga. It suddenly was stiffing hot to Shraga. She was expected not only to wear that ridiculous see through outfit; she was also supposed to paint her nipples so they could be better seen? She fanned herself with a hand as if trying to put out the flame of anger.

She was at war with herself. A small part of her wanted to do what these women asked of her, so she could better fit into the role of devoted Persian wife. But the rest of her, the side that was still all Hassansin berated herself for wanting to fit in at all. You are not Persian, so you don't have to do what they want, you are your own person, never forget that, she told herself in her head. The words echoed around in her head like the echo of someone in the mountains. Finally they anchored and real meaning sunk in. She was herself, she was Hassansin. She was not a Persian. She could play the part as much as she could, but to the core she is a Hassansin.

"Look here, I will let you dress me up in the ridiculous outfit, make me smell like a flower, and even accent my face with a little of your paints, but I will not let you paint my nipples. If my husband really wants to see me, then he can see me in private." said Shraga as she crossed her arms over her breasts in protection.

Sanaz nodded and put the lid back on the rouge with a look of humor on her pretty face. She then put a little of the makeup on Shraga's face. Azada smiled at Shraga's courage to stand up to them. Shraga should not be pushed from who she is. It really was a mighty thing to do to stand up to the Queen of Persia and her daughters. Shraga really was a feisty one, and Azada rather enjoyed her.

Xxxxxxxxx

He waited in the gardens by himself. He had sent his servant to fetch his wife so he could prepare himself a few more minutes mentally for what could possibly happen tonight. Their wedding night was nothing like he expected, so what made him think that this night could actually go according to plan?

He fingered the hilt of the sword she had given him. He wore it to dinner not to make her happy that it was by his side, but to actually prepare himself if suddenly she attacked again. He didn't know his wife yet so how was he to know that she wouldn't spring into a fighting stance upon her arrival instead of actually sit down to eat the nice meal that he had thought of himself. He did not know what she liked so he asked the cooks to prepare a meal that he liked, in hopes it would suit her as well.

Paranoid is what he was, and he knew this all too well. How could he not be with a snake of a wife that he was with? Yet at the same time he was just as paranoid as to this night going according to plan. A good dinner, a stroll through the gardens afterward, and then what? Was he supposed to kiss her goodnight? The thought of kissing her appealed to him, and made him sick all at the same time. He was attracted to her, so kissing her would be nice, but who was to say that if he did kiss her she wouldn't turn on him.

Was marriage really this hard for everyone else? He sighed at the thought that this was going to be an everyday affair with his wife. Yet at the same time, this could very well be more exciting than a wife that followed him around like a sick puppy and did everything he asked without question. Yet not knowing what to expect would be maddening. It was enough to really drive him insane in the long run.

"You look disturbed, Garsiv." said Shraga. He jumped at the sound of her voice and looked over. She was standing right next to him. He had not heard her sneak up on him at all. He composed him quickly in the company of his wife. He did not want to give her the satisfaction that she had managed to yet again surprise him. He then started to watch her like a hawk. She did not look like she was about to strike, even though her body seemed tense, but not in the way a warrior prepares for battle. She seemed more nervous.

His chest swelled with pride, but he did everything not to show it. He breathed in deeply and halted when he smelled lavender. It wafted off of her softly and he could not stop himself from finding that scent on her more than alluring. "Are you ready for dinner?" he asked with a slight smile on his face.

"Are you really wearing your sword on your hip at dinner?" she asked instead of answering. He swallowed hard as he looked into her eyes. He nodded hesitantly and she smiled. "A good warrior is always prepared." she whispered with a smile as she started towards the table to eat. He did not know that those words were something that her father had once told her when she was younger. He noticed then as she walked in front of him that she was wearing a see through tunica, no wonder she looked so nervous. He was caught between the need to laugh and the need to stare.

He stood there though, unable to look away from her backside, choosing to stare instead of laugh. He could tell she had hoped that the dress would be shadowed by the fact it was night time. What she did not count on was that the gardens were well lit with burning torches. He smiled as he watched her. She was fairly beautiful. He caught sign of those scars on her back. He could tell that the scars were made by a sword, just like the one on her eye. The scars really seemed to fit her character. He did want to ask about them, but he knew this was neither the time nor place to do so.

He shook his head and hurried to join her at the table. They ate in silence, a most uncomfortable one for they did not know how to break the ice, either one of them. He did not really know what to talk about with her, nor did she know what to talk about with him. It was very awkward for the both of them, and they both felt that tension. After they had finished Garsiv cleared his throat and looked at her with a smile. "I got you a gift." he said with a smile. She returned his kind smile and waited patiently for him to give her the trinket she knew was coming.

Garsiv smiled even more. Dinner had been nice, and he wanted it to continue to be a nice dinner. He suddenly got a thought to make it more exciting himself. She would never expect him to act like he wanted to do. It was settled, he was going to make this night more exciting. He stood quickly and turned over the table in the process. Everything skittered across the floor and broke. She was on her feet and taking stance weaponless, ready to fight. She looked surprised, but he knew she was ready. She was a better warrior than he already knew she was.

He drew his sword, knowing this would be an unfair fight for she had no weapon. He knew though that she would be able to hold her own. He struck out first and she ducked. His sword sung over her head and she took that opportunity to punch him in the middle. It did not faze him because it was a sparring punch. She then kicked him in the hand, sending his sword flying. He did not think that she would disarm him so quickly. She then spun around and stopped her fist an inch from his face.

Yes, his wife was definitely a better fighter than he had already seen from her. What sort of secrets was she hiding? He needed to learn more about her, and with time he would figure it all out.

He sighed, seemed that his fun was going to cut short. "I would love to spar, but this is your sister's dress, and I would rather not get it dirty." she explained as she withdrew her fist from near his face.

"I see." he said as he looked down at her dress. It did make sense as why she was wearing something like that. He caught the barest glimpse of the curvature of her breasts and he felt something stir within him. He also could see the outline of her hips. He knew he was allowed to look upon her like this, but it felt wrong.

"Can I have my gift now?" she asked as she drew his eyes from her breasts and hips to her eyes, the things on her body that were the most powerful thing about her. He nodded and reached within his robes and took out a long dagger with a green hilt. "I thought you would like this more than a necklace." he said.

He really managed to surprise her. She stood still and eyed the dagger. It was a good dagger. She could tell that he really looked hard to find her one with a hilt that matched her eyes. She couldn't wipe the smile off of her face. She quickly snatched it from his hands and toyed with it for a moment as if she were a child.

It was near perfect. She removed it from the sheath and expected the blade. It was sharp, very sharp. It was a beautiful blade. She smiled sweetly and returned it back to the sheath. "Thank you, it is most perfect." she said with a smile.

"It isn't much, but I figured you would like it." Garsiv said as he scratched his temple nervously. They stood there for a moment, awkwardly, not knowing what to do next. Shraga licked her bottom lip in thought. She knew her thank you wasn't as good as what he had hoped for. When she gave him the sword he had been so thankful. Her thank you had not been as joyful as it should have been.

She did what she needed to do then to prove that she was very thankful. She placed a hand behind his neck and leaned forward and pecked his cheek. At first she thought to actually kiss him, but then she decided against it. She wanted him to make that first move, not her. When she drew back she saw him blush slightly. It made her feel good that she had managed to make his cheeks turn red.

"I am glad you like it." he said.

He then held out his hand as if he wanted her to take it. She did so, and it was the first time they had held each other's hand willingly. Their fingers entwined together adoringly. He had made sure that he got her good hand instead of the one with stitches. He drew her closer to himself as he started to walk with her. "I figured we would walk through the gardens. I am sure you haven't seen them all when you were wondering around today." he said as he started to give her a tour.

She was sure he thought this was romantic. She felt guilty that she was not impressed by it. After a few minutes of them walking and him pointing out flowers he realized that she was not having fun. "You are a hard women to impress." he said with a hint of a laugh. He was not sure that he liked this about her or not.

"I am sorry, I am just not accustomed to fine things I suppose. I am from the desert." she whispered.

"I would have thought that you would be impressed by finer things seeing how you are from the desert." he said as he stopped them by a big tree in the center of the gardens.

"You must be figuring out quickly that I am not the woman you thought you were going to marry." she said with a laugh. He watched as her face lit up with that laugh and he couldn't help but to feel her joy. She liked that she was different and was not what he expected. When she stopped laughing he reached out and tucked some of her loose hair behind her ear. She grabb ed his wrist to stop him. He startled her with his touch as much as he had startled her.

He withdrew his hand and said, "You are really pretty when you actually allow yourself to laugh."

"I am sorry that I grabbed you." she apologized. They both swallowed hard and looked away from each other.

"I understand that you are not used to me yet, as I am not used to you. Eventually we will grow accustomed to each other. I am looking forward to the day when we know each other." he said as he again reached out to play with a strand of her hair. This time she allowed it. He tugged gently at her hair and she giggled. It was a sweet moment, and she felt herself starting to like Garsiv a little bit. When he let down his wall that he built around himself he was a real likable guy.

"Tell me about yourself." she demanded as she started walking with him hand in hand again. He really had to think about it before he replied. How does one really know themselves? Or how can he describe himself in a few simple words.

"I like studying military strategy. I like to look at other's mistakes and victories so I can learn and adapt on the battle field." he began with. She shook her head at him and he looked confused. "I want you to tell me about yourself Garsiv. What kind of man are you?" she asked. She had plenty of time to learn his likes and dislikes, she wanted to know deeper than that. He swallowed hard, not really knowing how to answer her.

"What kind of woman are you?" he asked instead of answering.

"I am hard headed, defiant, loyal, and… I am not sure what else I am yet." she said as she turned back to look at him. He understood a little more of what she was asking after she gave him a little insight into her.

"I guess I am strong willed, independent, and hard to be honest." he said as he thought out loud.

"What do you mean you are hard?" she asked as she found a bench for them both to sit on while they spoke to one another.

He chewed his bottom lip nervously. He had never been asked questions like this. He felt compelled to tell her everything she wanted to know, and more. He found himself wanting to reveal all his secrets, and emotions to her. Was this the bond he was supposed to feel between himself and his first wife? If so he could get used to having such a close friend.

"I suppose I mean that I usually keep to myself. Rely on myself, and it has made me tough around the edges. You are the same way you know, tough around the edges." he remarked with a smile.

"That is where you are wrong my husband, I am not tough, I am sharp." she said with a smile. They both laughed together, and they could mutually feel the tension between them to lessen ever so slightly. It was progress though, and both were happy for that progress.

"I actually have something else other than the dagger that I wanted to give you. It was my grandmother's they say. I found it this morning. I know it is probably something you don't care for, but I really want you to have it as well." he said as he pulled out this black pearl bracelet. She could not help but to feel humbled as he put it around her slender wrist. It was very pretty, and she actually liked the thing.

She eyed it adoringly and then started to wonder about Garsiv's grandmother. What kind of woman was she to possess the glossy black pearls? She really was in awe of Garsiv at that moment. It means more than he would ever know that he had given her something that was of his family. In his own way he had given a piece of himself to her, and she was still a stranger to him. This was a real start to their marriage. He was really trying, just like she had been really trying for him that morning when she gifted him that sword.

"Thank you." she whispered as if she had been stunned nearly speechless. He could tell that he really had managed to surprise her then as well. The look on her face was so peaceful, and beautiful. Without waiting any more, when she looked up again to thank him again, he leaned in and kissed her. He had not planned to do so, but he really wanted to then. Her mouth was slightly open, and he caught her off guard, but she soon recovered. She closed her mouth and let her lips form to his.

His warmth passed to her, and she could feel herself grow flushed all over. Earlier she had not thought any of this was romantic, but now she could feel the romance. It made her tingle with joy, and she grew a little dizzy from the air around them. This was her first real kiss and it was overly sweet. She had kissed boys before, but this was the first one that had ever made her feel special. The ugly boys from her village that she had kissed when she was younger never made her feel this way.

Garsiv was a handsome man. Attractive and… She couldn't place a finger on everything that she wanted to know about him. All she knew now was that he had a genuine kiss that left her wanting to learn more about her husband.

Reality set in though all too soon. They were still both children in their own way and they both know this. He broke the kiss and laughed a little because the romantic air around them all too suddenly turned awkward again. Garsiv had always considered himself to be an experienced man, but after kissing the woman he was supposed to live his entire life with, he realized there was much more that had to learn.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Well I am back, like I said I had to take a break from this story, that and I had a lot of school work to do. I hope this chapter was worth the wait. Please review and let me know what you think. I must warn everyone, I am not good at Persian history, but I do know some of the culture. Since Prince of Persia is fiction, so is my story, so please do not give me a history lesson after reading this. The events in this chapter are purely made up so please keep that in mind. But again, please enjoy and review**

Time in its own way is a funny thing. Sometimes it is slow, as if never passing, and other times it flies by at the speed of light. Time is a sometimes a tragic thing as well. For a newlywed couple it can be a number of these many things. For Shraga and Garsiv at times time was their friend, and at other times it was their enemy. Mainly, time was their enemy. Two months had passed since their wedding day, and not much had changed in their relationship. After they had kissed that day in the gardens, they had not been afforded another precious moment like that. To this newlywed couple this was tragic.

A few days after they had kissed they got the terrible news that the Scythians were trying to invade their eastern boarders. So the palace turned to pandemonium and Garsiv and Shraga were torn from getting to know each other. At first Shraga tried not to get in their way. She respected that Garsiv needed space so he could help prepare with the king and his brother Tus.

They were planning military action and that meant most of Garsiv's time was taken away from her almost completely. So she took the time to befriend Azada and her daughters. They needed the comfort of a true friend, not the friends they made in the harem. That and she didn't want to spy on her husband. She actually wanted him to tell her what was going on.

The first few weeks she would wait in his room for him to retire, and end up falling asleep and waking with no knowledge on if he really came to sleep at all. She supposed that if he had come he wouldn't have stayed at seeing her asleep in his bed. His servants would tell her he never came by, but she did not know if she could believe them. After those first few weeks though she gave up trying to see him, she figured when he had the time he would seek her out.

In those whole two months he sought her out only one time, and it was just to tell her that he would be leaving with Tus and his father to the eastern boarders to fight. Shraga already knew he would leave, but he had to make a formal statement of it to her because she was his wife. She just happened to be with Azada and Sanaz when he had come to tell her and they weren't spared any alone time so they could really speak. Shraga took the news with a simple nod while the other women cried. What was Shraga supposed to feel though? She had just married the man and now he was having to leave for war.

So two months later they were nearing the end of the preparations for the army to start to march east. It had been a while since she waited in his room for him to retire, but she really wanted to speak to him. She was not unmindful to the fact that in three days time, Garsiv would be leaving her.

She sat on his bed as she waited, just in case he did not come again and she fell asleep. She laid a hand over her chest, over where her heart resided. Its beat was easy and slightly accelerated. She was sure most women would be overly dramatic at the thought of their husbands going to war. She on the other hand was calm. She believed that Garsiv was a good enough warrior to survive. He was not too hot headed, and he really was aware of most things around him when he battled. In other words, he didn't let his skill go to his head and become cocky during his battles.

She had watched him spar enough over these two months to realize that he could hold his own. She sighed as she played with a loose strand on one of her new tunicas. It was a bright blue, but wasn't see through. She had managed to get some of them not to be transparent material. It was nice that seamstress understood the threat that Shraga posed if she did not get her way.

Garsiv entered, bringing her out of her thoughts and stopped her from playing with that loose strand on her outfit. She thought he would sigh at seeing her, but he didn't, he actually wore a kind smile. "Your serving girl told me you were here." he said as he unstrapped his sword and laid it on a table near the bed. Funny thing was that Shraga did not know she had a serving girl.

Shraga could tell Garsiv was tired. He tried to untie some of his robes and gave up when he realized that he was too exhausted to try to undress. Shraga came to his aid. She untied his outer robes for him and helped shrug them off. She then helped him take off his leather breastplate that he wore under his robes. He sighed happily when she removed the heavy thing. Without that breast plate, he felt lighter.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and ran a hand through his hair. He didn't think she would continue to help him ready himself for bed, but she did. She bent down and removed his boots. She was still a stranger to him though, so this was odd for him to experience. Shraga was his stranger wife that was showing him a kindness when he needed it the most.

"Thank you." he said when she had finished. She nodded and stood back up in front of him. He watched as she took off a necklace that he had noticed she had been wearing since they had been married. It was just made of twine and had a small pendant on it. She then tied it around his neck.

"It is for protection. My great grandfather made it." she explained as she still fiddled with the knot behind his neck. She was close enough so he could smell her. She did not seem to bother with scented oils like most of the women here, she just smelled clean. He looked down at the pendant and was confused on what it was. If she deigned to bestow protection on him then he was going to welcome it with open arms.

"Shraga, we are leaving early. Our spies say that the enemy wouldn't be expecting us to leave so early, so we march tomorrow at dawn." he said as he looked up into her lime green eyes. She hissed. She felt like she too had been fooled. She could have sworn that they would be leaving in three days, not tomorrow. It was a great plan, those three days would award them more of a surprise to their enemy. If it surprised her it surely would surprise the Scythians.

"Well I suppose it is lucky that I give you protection tonight." she said as she brushed some of his hair out of his eyes. He nodded that he was glad she did come tonight instead of waiting. He had gone to her room and was thankful when her servant told him that she was not there. He knew then that she would be here. It was a blessing that he was learning those sorts of things about his wife.

"I am sorry Shraga, I really thought we would have more time to get to know each other before something like this happened." he said as he patted the space next to him on the bed. She sat down like he wanted her to.

"We will have plenty of time for that when you come home. Right now you have bigger things to think about." she said as she nudged her shoulder with his. "I suppose you are right. I just really think I would like to leave with more knowledge of my wife than what I am." he explained to her.

They both sat there for a moment before he turned to hug her. She tensed against him, unsure on how to react. He was leaving tomorrow, and he may not return. So she loosened against him and wrapped her own arms around him too. She could be a widow before she actually learned what marriage really was.

She could also tell that he needed this slight comfort, and in a way she needed it too. Their body heat mingled together as well as their scents. It was pleasant, and so was the hug. She found herself enjoying it more than she thought she would have. She squeezed her arms, tightening the hug as she laid her head on his chest. He nuzzled his face into her hair and closed his eyes.

"Sleep here tonight…" he suggested into her hair without opening her eyes. "Alright…" she whispered into his chest. The panic didn't set in at all after she agreed to sleep at his side. On the contrary she felt a sense of excitement.

He lifted her chin with a finger so he could look at her. She was strong. She was Shraga, no one else would understand that, but he was hoping one day he would understand that. He still did not know enough about her, but he suddenly knew he was proud to call her his wife. A smile graced his lips before he leaned in and kissed her. It was the second time they had kissed, and he wanted this time to really stand out in her mind as well as his.

Their lips molded together like the perfect yin yang. There was more passion behind this kiss than there had been in the first. He really wanted it to burn into her memory. His mouth moved against hers slow at first, and she tried her best to match him. She was a very inexperienced kisser, and he could tell this. He wasn't the best either, but he was going to try his best now.

Something stirred within him, whispered to him to really take control of her mouth. Like a fire raging through the forest, he really kissed her. She gasped suddenly and opened her mouth in the process. He took the opportunity to let his tongue slide past her lips and teeth inside the dark crevices of her mouth. His tongue slithered against hers, and she froze against him, not sure what to do. It was okay though, he was melting away the ice as he explored her mouth with a tender care. The tip of his tongue flicked against the roof of her mouth and she moaned a little bit and loosened up.

He could feel her trembling and he took it as excitement instead of fear. He grabbed the hair at the nape of her neck, revealing in its thick curly locks and pulled her head back into an angle so he could yet deepen the kiss. Then she surprised him. She started kissing back, mimicking what he was doing to her. Her tongue slid against his in a sweet tender dance. She then took the tip of her tongue and ever so slowly ran it from the roof of his mouth to the back of his teeth. She had done this to him slower than she had done it to him and it made his head swim.

He groaned in delight against her mouth which only made her explore his mouth more. Both were forgetting that they needed to breath and before she broke the kiss so she could get a taste of sweet air again she drew his bottom lip between her teeth.

He breathed in a deep sigh and couldn't wipe the smile off of his face. That was how their first kiss should have been, he thought to himself. She too smiled and her lips were flush and slightly swollen from their kiss. He licked his lips and stared at her lips in the process. He wanted more from her, and he was afraid to kiss her again from the danger that might ensue if he could not stop himself.

"Come, I need my rest. Let us go to bed." he said as he stood up, to put some distance between them for a moment so he could calm himself. He took off his tunic and then walked around to the other side of the bed. He had missed the look on her face when he took of his tunic. She looked very pleased and confused. She was feeling weird in her stomach. She had never been told a whole lot about these sorts of things, so this feeling in her stomach was unnerving.

She then stood up and fiddled with her dress. She did not bring anything but her dress, and she could sleep in it but now she was overly hot. She was not sure if she wanted to deal with being hot and sleeping, or actually sleeping by his side naked. She chose to sleep with the dress without a second thought and lay down next to him.

There was some distance between them at first and she laid there like a statue. She was not sure what she should do. She instantly cursed all her Hassansin brethren. They had all prepared her to kill a man, but never prepared her for sleeping next to one. She chewed her bottom lip slightly as she wondered if she should just try to sleep or… Or what?

She decided to just try and sleep as if she were there alone. Only problem with that was now he rolled over and closed the space between them. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her in closer to him. Within moments he was asleep and she was left lying there awake.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

He woke up and looked over to find himself alone in bed. He sat up and he then spotted her sitting at his desk, looking over some of his battle plans that were scattered across it. She seemed to be in deep thought, and did not even notice that he was awake, staring at her. He was actually going to miss her while he was away. It mattered not that he did not know her, he was going to miss what could be if he got to stay.

He cleared his throat and brought her out of her thoughts. She looked up to him and told him good morning. She must make it a habit to wake before the sun rose because here she was again in his room before day break. He sat up and stretched under her ever watchful gaze. After he finished loosening his muscles he pulled himself out of his bed and walked to the desk where she sat. He leaned down and let himself wrap his arms around her shoulders.

It was not clear to him why he had done this, but he just mimicked what he had seen his father do to Azada when he thought no one was looking.

"How did you sleep?" he asked as he played with a tendril of her hair. He was not sure how she felt about him doing this to her, but he had not felt her tense so he took it as she did not mind it. In fact he found himself surprised that she leaned into his touch.

"I slept well," she said, "it was pretty warm all night because of you." She looked up over her shoulder at him, and wore a pretty smile. He wished they had more time together, he really did. Yet time was not their friend at the moment. They would have this chance later after he dealt with the Scythians. He brushed his lips over her cheek and then let go of her.

He needed to start preparing himself for the march today. She stood up and followed him to his closet. He could tell she was going to make it a point to help him dress for the day. As he opened the closet doors he reached up and fingered the pendant that she had given him the night before. Just touching it made him feel a connection to her. He wondered if she knew that the necklace was a link to her. She probably did not, and it was probably him just thinking overly much.

With her help he picked out what he was going to wear on the first day of the march. It was desert garb of course, but its fine fabric was definitely fit for a prince of Persia. She helped into his clothes and he knew that with this contact, even though it was brief, had brought them closer. He was glad that he had asked her to spend the night with him. The night might not have resulted in love making, but he was honest when he thought that it was better that way.

With time, they would learn to know each other, and love each other. And when that day came, and love making ensued, it would actually be worth it. He did not want the woman he married to just be another woman he has sex with. He wanted it to be special for the both of them since they were forced into this marriage.

After she was done tying all his robes over his leather armor, he turned to look at himself in the looking glass. He looked like his father had those years ago when they had a war. It made him proud that he looked like his father. He met her eyes through the looking glass and they both smiled at one another.

He let his eyes drift to the balcony at his room, and saw the sun was rising. It was time to leave. He lifted his chin and squared his shoulders. He turned to look at her and she stepped forward and stopped a foot away from him. She pricked her finger with the tip of the dagger he had given him. She mumbled something underneath her breath, in a language he did not understand. She reached out and wiped the blood on the back of both of his hands. This confused him, but he allowed her to do it.

Once she was done she stepped away from him. "What did you do?" he asked.

"It is to help guide your hand that grasps your blade to the enemy's heart." she explained.

He wanted to know more, but he didn't have the time to sit here and learn more about it. It would have to be something he asked when he came back. So instead of asking about her odd ways, he dragged her against him so he could kiss her. Their kiss was like last night, slow and passionate. Except it was better than last night's because she knew a little more of what she wanted from a kiss. They also knew that this would be their last kiss for a long time. So the intensity was fierce for the both of them. And then that fleeting moment was over.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He mounted the horse that his father had given him a few years ago. He loved this horse, and he was sure that the horse loved him as well. He could tell that Gnosis was ready to be on his way. Gnosis was an eager horse which matched his own eagerness. Gnosis stomped the ground and snorted loudly. Most men would soothe their horses, trying to calm them down, but not Garsiv.

It made him proud that the horse stomped and pranced and snorted impatiently. It meant he was ready to fight. Garsiv saw no point to calm that spirit down. Garsiv looked to Tus, and saw that he too allowed his horse to act out. They were ready to leave, now all they did were wait for their father.

Garsiv looked back and saw Dastan standing next to Azada, sulking. He was not allowed to go on this trip, his father thought him still too young yet, so he had to stay behind. He remembered when he felt that way a few years ago. It was not a good feeling, but he got over it and so would Dastan.

His eyes then caught Shraga who stood on the other side of his mother. She stood there with her head held high and her shoulder's square. It was as if she had nothing to worry about. Which actually made his chest swell with pride, if she had the confidence to not cry on his departure, then that must mean she had the confidence in him.

He couldn't help himself from smiling. It meant a lot to him that she didn't stand over there with tears in her eyes. It was nice that she set an example of strength to everyone else. Or maybe it was because she really didn't care if he survived this war or not. For a moment his pride faltered, but he corrected himself instantly. There was no way that she didn't care. She had marked him with her blood, and had given him this necklace.

He touched the pendant and instantly felt a connection to her. It was a slight pulsating feeling that traveled up his hand, into his arm, and into his heart. It made him feel at peace and he felt her peace as well. It was much harder for him to comprehend, this connection, but he felt that it only mattered that he could feel her, and did have a connection to her. He fingered the pendant and let the feeling wash over him.

He removed his hand, letting go to her, as he heard his father approach. He looked over, and found his father, sitting high upon his war horse. Even for an older man his father looked glorious. He dipped his head to his father and so did Tus. It was time, they all knew this.

"You ready my boys?" asked Sharaman as he looked both of his son's in the eye.

"I am ready, father." answered Tus quickly.

"I am ready as well." said Garsiv with a tilt of his head.

Sharaman smiled and raised his hand for his sons to kiss his hand. They both did, Tus going first, then Garsiv second. With that, their father took head of the army, and started out. Horns sounded, cheering started, people threw flowers at their feet to symbolize their love and hope for their safe return.

With one last glance back he took in Shraga. She wore a simple smile on her face and she lifted a hand in goodbye. He did not know it then, but it would be a long while until he saw her again.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They had made it further than Garsiv had thought they would have made it. He was tired and elated all at the same time. By the time he helped strike his own tent, he was ready for bed, but he knew that it was not time to do so yet. This was his second time to war and he made it a point to help other men strike their tents. With Tus by his side, they both helped seven other men with their tents before the camp was ready to start with their dinner.

All over the camp fires were being set, and after a few minutes the smell of food filled the air. Garsiv felt his stomach rumble and his mouth water. He didn't realized how hungry he really was until he smelled the food cooking over his own fire with his brother and a few other men.

Tonight would be a merry night, filled with laughter, strong wine, and old war stories. He never knew how wise his father and his advisor's really were until they told their stories. Across the fire his father started telling his favorite story about how his uncle had saved him from a mountain lion. It was always a grand story, and Garsiv always saw the look of love on the brother's face as he told it. It would be a story he would hear a hundred more times, but every time he did hear it he knew that he had to stay close to his brothers.

He glanced to Tus who beamed as his father got to the punch line of the story. Garsiv knew that he would lay down his life for either Tus or Dastan. He loved them both so dearly. Without thinking he reached up and grasped his pendant that Shraga had given him. Instantly that connection took over and he felt her, as if she were sitting next to him. He swore for a moment he could almost smell her.

Garsiv had not noticed, but he had been doing this all day. He did not know when, but he suddenly felt dependent on that connection to her. He closed his eyes and let that feeling wash over him. It was a good feeling, one that left him wanting more. It was not the first time today that he cursed that he didn't know her more than he did. He wanted to know his Shraga more than he could in the two months he had known her.

Time was too cruel in moments like this when he wished he could be talking to her, or kissing her. He had only kissed her twice now, but he knew that he wanted more. When he returned from this war he was actually scared that he may not be able to keep himself at arm's length from her like he had been doing. He had been trying to get to know her, but their time had been cut too short. And now he wanted her. He had tasted what was his, and now he wanted the rest of her.

He let go of the pendant like it had burned him. He had other things to be thinking about. He would have plenty of time on the way home to think of the things he was going to do to her. He turned his attention back to his father who was now telling another story about the time Tus thought to become a great warrior sorcerer. Tus laughed merrily about the story, it was childish antics, and it did not embarrass him to let anyone know that story.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

She felt him; he was holding the pendant again. He had done this more times today than she had thought he would do. She knew by now that he would know that it was a link to her. She felt humbled by the fact that he kept seeking out that link. She leaned against that door to her room and waited for the union to end. It did after a few minutes, and in those few minutes, they made her feel special.

She picked herself off of the door and walked deeper into her room. She had wanted to sleep in Garsiv's room, but she decided against it. She didn't want to get too accustomed of being around his things just in case something did happen to him. It was a way to protect herself, which she had the right to do.

He might have been upset that they hadn't the time to get to know each other before he had to leave, but to be honest with herself, she was glad things happened the way they did. It would be much worse for her if they had became the best of friends and then for him to die at war. He might not understand her logic if she explained it to him, but she knew it was the best way this could have happened.

She confident that he would survive, but anyone could die, even him. As she sat at the vanity in her room, and stared at herself in the looking glass, one of her vipers slithered up her leg. When she looked down at the snake though, she knew this one was not hers.

She let it travel up her body and wrap itself around her shoulders. It flicked its tongue out and tickled against the pulse point on her neck. It could strike at any moment, and kill her.

"You grow weak." said a deep voice from the shadows in her room. She huffed.

"How so?" she asked.

"You should have heard me by now." he answered, not bothering to show himself as of yet. She laughed loudly, which startled the viper that was poised around her shoulders. It refrained from striking though; its master had not commanded it yet.

"Zolm, I thought I might let you enjoy yourself a while longer before I ruined it for you." she said as she turned to look at the corner of the room that he stood at. She had heard him, she was not growing soft, she just enjoyed taunting him.

He exited the shadows and glared at her with such vehemence behind his eyes. "What is that supposed to mean Shraga?" he asked in a near growl.

"I am not oblivious, Zolm. And that stupid look on your face is not attractive in the least." she said as she let her green eyes wonder over his body. She turned her eyes back to his and noticed he was staring at her scar. The scar that he had given her. Her father had taken blame for it, but she knew as well as her father and Zolm, that he was the one who had done it. And he had done it out of anger.

She saw the vehemence behind his eyes soften, and the guilt creep onto his face. It was not a long story about why he had hurt her. Zolm is ambitious, wants to lead that tribe one day. So the best way to insure himself the right to lead, he wanted to marry her. She turned him down, and he took a sword to her. In a normal society, among normal people, he would have been punished, but her father liked his ambition and took blame himself. And in the process she had been sworn to secrecy.

"You are taunting me aren't you?" he asked as if he had figured out her game.

"I do have the right to taunt you now for the rest of your life, for every time I see my reflection I am reminded on you." she said with a smile. He sighed knowing she spoke nothing but the truth to him.

"So what do you want Zolm?" she asked as she looked back at herself into the looking glass. She hoped she made her point to him that he was not welcome in her room, or her life.

"Your father sent me to get information about the war. Word just got to us." he explained as he made himself comfortable in her room. He sat on her bed after he removed his cloak. She sighed as she watched him through the glass. It always bothered her when he acted like they were closer than they were. He always had a way about him that he always seemed so close to her, when he wasn't. Zolm was her least favorite person. He was too shifty for her. He would go against someone he was supposed to be in alliance with to benefit himself.

"Seems like my father is getting rusty if the news just reached him." she whispered as she started to brush her hair, never taking her eyes off of him.

"Well word would have reached him now if his dear sweet daughter would do her job." he said as he stared at her with his unusually pale blue eyes.

"And what job are we speaking of?" she asked as she drew the tortoise shell comb through her thick curly hair. She fussed with a knot, taking her eyes off of him in the process. When she finally managed to pull the comb though the knot and looked back up he was standing right behind her. A smile graced his lips, and it made her stomach turn. She was not oblivious to the fact that Zolm was a handsome man, but he was shifty. She didn't like that about him.

"You are getting soft. And you know what job I am talking about. You haven't been sending correspondent letters to let us know what is going on in the palace." he said as he reached out and took the comb from her hand. He sat down the comb on the vanity and then brushed her hair aside from the back of her neck so he could put a firm hand there.

She instantly stiffened, unsure what he was doing. "I don't know what is going on here, in the palace. I am a wife, and that is it. If father wanted me to be his little spy he should have made that clear." she spat. His grip tightened, and she knew that it was going to bruise the sensitive skin on her neck.

"You know damn well what your father wanted you to do, Shraga." he hissed at her ear, as well as his viper that was still around her shoulders, waiting to strike.

"Well how about you tell my father that I am a wife and that is my job. If he wanted me to be his spy, then he shouldn't have made me marry into the family. The king has a whole network of spies who watch the palace. He isn't daft, you know. He knows that is what father wants me to do, and he has been good to guard against me doing such things. It would be easier to sneak around if I wasn't the princess, but I am now, so father should get someone else to do his dirty work." she said with a growl.

He smirked at her with a laugh. "You really are something. I still believe that we would have made a better match." he said as he removed his hand. Fighting her will would be futile, he figured she was stronger than she let on. Stronger than the last time they had fought, when he had marked her for life.

"I suppose I will relay the message to your father." he said as he pulled off the viper around her shoulders. And with that, Zolm left.


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: Okay so just for anyone who was worried, I have not fallen off the face of the earth. I just got done with this semester so I had exams. So there was a lot of studying going on in place of writing, even though I would have rather of been writing instead of studying. So here it is, finally. I know this is slightly shorter than the others that I have posted but I can tell you that the stuff that happens in this one hopefully makes up for it being short. So please enjoy. Review and let me know what you think ^_^**

She lounged in her room on an elegant couch as she watched Naheed and Sanaz try on stola's. The stola was a new sort of dress that a merchant said hailed from the west from some land called Greece. The twin sisters had bought more than a few of them and rushed to Shraga to show them off. They liked to discuss fashion with someone who didn't know what they were talking about. It made them seem more knowledgeable then other women they knew.

The sisters both giggled at each other's appearance as they twirled around in circles in front of a silver looking glass. The stolas were made of a thicker material that wasn't translucent like the material they were used to. While it was of thicker material it was more revealing of skin in general in its own way. The neckline's were low, showing the tops of their breast more than their see throw gowns did. Shraga knew that one wrong move they would be spilling out of their tops. A faint smile graced Shraga's face as she fondly watched the sisters. Naheed and Sanaz really made her feel welcome along with their mother Azada.

She was beginning to not see them as sister in laws, but as sisters, cut from the same flesh and blood that she was. She really liked that she had grown so close to them. It made her feel at home even though she wasn't at home. This may be her home now, but it still wasn't the home she had grown up in. Sharga was still learning to love her new home, and it made it easier that she was falling in love with Naheed, Sanaz, and Azada.

She had never really had too many women in her life. Her mother taught her to be a good wife, and she knew that was how she was going to have to live her life. Yet she had grown up with the men. So this female interaction was new to her. She welcomed it though, and she was beginning to enjoy these sort of moments.

"Shraga, try this one on," demanded Sanaz in a hard tone. Shraga had come to learn that Sanaz was the more stern of the twins. At first she thought it was Naheed who would be the stern one, but she wasn't.

"I don't really feel like trying on anything today. Besides it is fun enough to watch the two of you," Shraga explained. Every word was the truth, she really didn't feel like moving from her spot on the couch to try on dresses.

Naheed snatched the dress that Sanaz wanted Shraga to try on out of her hands. "If she doesn't want it, then I will take it." All three of them laughed merrily at the situation. "Even though you should really think about adding to your wardrobe, Garsiv would be pleased to see you wearing different clothes instead of the same thing all the time." Naheed spoke as if she were joking but Shraga knew her well enough now to know that she thought what she said was true.

"I don't wear the same thing every day," said Shraga with a laugh. Both sisters gave Shraga a face though. She had many outfits but they did all resemble each other. It was something she had not noticed she did when she was in the seamstress. She noticed now though. Maybe she should add the stola to her wardrobe. She almost gave in but a noise near the window stole her attention.

She looked over and saw Zolm sneaking into the room. Sanaz and Naheed didn't even notice, and they wouldn't have because Zolm was a Hassansin. She relaxed into the couch and waited for Sanaz and Naheed to become bored with her. It didn't take too much longer for them to leave. Once the door shut, Zolm exited the shadows of the room.

"What are you doing back here?" she asked. It had been a week since she had spoken with him after Garsiv had left.

"You should be getting your first letter from your husband anytime now and I am supposed to read it and relay whatever news it has in it to your father. He is very disappointed in you by the way," explained Zolm with a crooked smile. She rolled her eyes at him.

"So what do you expect, to stay here all day to wait?" she asked as she crossed her arms over her chest. Part of it was to prove her point; the other was to hide her breasts from his observant gaze. She just happened to be wearing one of the dresses that happened to actually be see through. He raised an eyebrow at her actions and let his eyes lock with hers.

"I will be staying here until you get that letter," he answered. "So I suppose you should get used to me being here."

"I am thrilled at your company," she said in sarcasm.

They sat in silence for a few minutes and she wondered how her brethren were doing. She had been feeling homesick since she had left her homeland. She wanted to ask about them all, yet she felt that it may be weak on her part. She looked away from Zolm and wondered if her father was really disappointed in her. She knew he would be, but what did he really expect of her?

"How is my father?" she asked.

"He is fine. As healthy as a desert wolf, and just as conniving as one too," he said with a laugh.

She smiled a real smile. A smile that touched her eyes. Zolm watched her intensely and she felt his eyes on her.

"Has he touched you yet?" he asked. Her joyful moment of thinking of her father as a conniving wolf was ruined. Her eyes cut into him and if she thought she could kill him quickly she would have attacked. She even had a sword hidden but one pace away from where she sat.

"How is that any of your business?" she asked in a heated tone.

"I was just wondering because if he hasn't he sure has missed out," he said as if he were talking about a good sheep he was going to buy. She was not sure if Zolm was just saying such things to get a rise out of her or if he really meant something deeper. He was so hot and cold she would never really know. If she thought he would give her a straight answer, she would just ask how he really felt about her.

She didn't think he truly desired her. It wasn't as if she was someone he would really want anyways. He had only wanted to marry her out of convenience; it hadn't been deeper than that. She watched as a slow smile spread across his pale lips. It made her skin crawl as he gazed down at her as if he could devour her. She had never seen him look at her that way in her life.

She suddenly felt very uncomfortable. "What do you mean?" she asked, her cheeks burning under his gaze.

"I mean what I said. He sure has missed out. Leaving his virgin wife here, alone, to defend for herself. I mean what if something happened to you? What would your prince do? Nothing that is what. He hasn't even tasted you so if you perished here, it isn't like he would have much to mourn now would he?"

She realized now that he wanted her to strike out at him. He was trying to get a rise out of her like he usually did. This time though he was trying to change his tactics. Last time he had tried to get a rise out of her by force by grabbing the back of her neck, this time he was using the fact that her husband hadn't' touched her and she could die as a virgin against her.

"Why, you planning on killing me? Did my father tell you that he wanted me dead after you read the letter?" she spat back at him.

He smiled and laughed. "I guess you aren't as soft as I thought you were."

"What did you expect me to do? Shake in my boots in fear? Or better yet, fall at your feet and ask you to take me so I wouldn't have to live the last little bit of my life a virgin? You're pathetic Zolm."

"Not as pathetic as the woman who tries to hide her breasts when I can see the junction of her legs through that pretty dress she is wearing," he said as he sat down on the edge of her bed. Shraga closed her eyes and realized that she must have looked pathetic because of that. Normally she would wear trous under her dress but today she hadn't done so because she was becoming more used to the idea of wearing nothing beneath them because it wasn't as if she had anyone there to stare at her.

She hadn't been expecting Zolm otherwise she would have worn layers of clothing to hide herself from his gaze. She heaved a sigh and sat up on the couch. It mortified her that he had seen her like this. She glanced over to him and he wore no expression on his face. She really thought that out of every Hassansin she knew Zolm was the hardest to read.

She let her mind wonder to if her father hadn't made her marry Garsiv. She would be married to Zolm. How would their relationship be? It saddened her. She was very lucky to be married to Garsiv. He may be rough around the edges but he was a better husband than Zolm would have been. Zolm would have taken what was his already. She would be nothing but a woman to bare his children. She could try to be his equal but with Zolm she wouldn't have ever been able to get very far. Their marriage would be nothing but convenience for him, and only him.

She suddenly felt that connection with Garsiv and it soothed her thoughts. It was nice that he did it at the time. She felt Garsiv's warmth surround her and she could feel his elevated pulse. She could tell he was excited, not in danger through that connection. It was brief though, and before she knew it she was brought back to reality. She had wanted to savor that moment but she didn't get that luxury.

"Do you think you will ever love him?" asked Zolm as he fingered the fine oak wood of her bed frame.

"What is with all the questions?" she asked instead of answering. He was acting strange, stranger than he usually acted.

"Just thinking out loud I suppose," he answered. His tone for a moment sounded regretful. She squinted at him as if she would see something in the new perspective about him. She sighed again.

"Is there something wrong?" she asked even thought she didn't want to.

"I guess you could say that. Your father is choosing heirs. I thought he would choose me, but he hasn't said anything yet. I have just been thinking how easier it would have been if I could have just married you."

Every word he uttered she knew was true. In Hassansin culture the leader was chosen in either three ways: birthright, marriage to the princess, or fighting through the games. Since she was now in this political marriage no one could marry her to get to that spot. She was an only child, so no one else had the birthright, not even she because to lead one has to be male. That meant he had to fight through the games if her father even chose him in the groups to fight.

Her father would call ten heirs to battle each other to become the sole heir. They would battle for days, making an event out of it. Whoever one led because he would therefore be the strongest. She had never gotten to see a game before. It would have been nice to get to see one, even if it was a brutal fight to the death over the right to lead.

Zolm was a great fighter. Yet he sounded worried. That must mean that her father must have already chosen someone who was a better warrior than Zolm. She also wondered if she should feel flattered that he had depended on her hand in marriage that much. She was sure that her father would choose him to fight as well, if she were her father she would chose him too.

"You know my father likes you, he will pick you," she said. It was so odd to fathom that she was comforting him with kind words. She wanted to laugh at him and rub it in his face that he may never lead, but today she felt giving. So she gave him kind words.

"I never said that I was worried that he wouldn't, I was just saying it would have been easier to marry you," he explained after he breathed in a deep sigh. He looked at her as if he were about to strike. She shivered under his gaze because she had never seen this exact look on his face. She didn't understand what his expression was until he got up and crossed the distance between them.

Both of them were quick. She was up and backing away from him before he pinned her to the couch. Yet there was no escape and he pinned her to the wall instead. He roughly shoved her against the marble of the palace walls. One of his hands went to her throat to keep her there against the wall as he hauled his body against hers. He wasn't choking her, he just wanted to have leverage against her.

"I tried not to think about it, but maybe I am jealous because you were supposed to be mine," he whispered into her ear.

"I have been betrothed to one of the prince's of Persia since I was a child. I was never supposed to yours." She couldn't help but sound self righteous as she spoke. He laughed as he stared into her eyes.

"Don't you think we would have been good together?" he asked.

"I have to say no," she whispered. Her breath played against his lips and he moaned. Had he really desired her? She couldn't help but feel that he was just toying with her because he could. She pushed against him, but he had her pinned tightly.

He kissed her then, on her forehead, and then trailed little kisses down her cheek. She tried to turn her head away so he wouldn't catch her lips, but he caught them despite her trying to fight him. His lips were surprisingly welcoming. She couldn't stop herself from wondering if this is what his kisses would always feel like if they had been together.

She wanted to stop kissing him, but the concept of kissing was still all new to her so she couldn't stop herself from kissing him back. He growled huskily against her lips when she responded to him instead of fighting against him. Their lips moved against each other and before she knew it their tongues were sliding against each other as well. He wasn't a bad kisser but he wasn't Garsiv, she thought. Garsiv!

She suddenly felt the connection between her and Garsiv. He was holding the trinket she had given him. She felt sick with herself and automatically she reached out and grabbed the nearest thing, which was an oil lamp. She slammed it against the right side of his face and broke the lamp in the process.

He screamed because the oil soaked the right side of his face and caught flame. He flailed back and continued to scream. He tried to put out the fire with his hand and all he managed was to wipe away skin that was melting off his face. His fingers were covered in his own skin, and his face was bleeding profusely.

Horror gripped her but she acted instead of freezing up. She grabbed a thick blanket that was on the couch. She turned around in a hurry and suddenly froze for a second as she gazed at the side of his face. He looked horrific. There was such a pain behind his eyes that she felt sorry for him.

He tripped to the ground and fell on his back. His hands were still on his face trying his best to put out the flames that were eating his flesh. She threw the blanket over him and smothered the life out of the flames after he finally gave up his conquest of doing it with his hands. Ever so gently she patted the blanket and flapped it up and down to kill the fire. It took only a second for the flames to diminish beneath the blanket. She let go a breath she hadn't known she had been holding when it did.

"I am sorry," she breathed when she pulled the blanket away so she could see the damage without the fire licking at his skin. He hid his face though from her view and was on his feet before she could stop him. She realized then though that he had screamed which meant he must have alerted someone. He left just as the guard busted into her room.

"What happened here?" asked the captain as he went to the window that Zolm had left out of. Her mind worked too slowly at first to comprehend what had just happened between her and Zolm, and what she had done to him. All over the marble floor was oil and blood. Her mind started to connect with what happened and she felt ashamed. She knew she was going to have to say what she didn't want to say. If she said it they would surround her with guards all the time, but how else was she going to explain the blood and the fact a man had screamed in her room.

"A man tried to kill me…" she whispered. "I tried to fight him off and I hit him in the face with the lamp before he ran."

"Did he hurt you?" asked the guard as he turned back to her.

"No he didn't, I was able to keep him away from me," she said.

Azada came rushing into the room then. Her face was pale and she sighed happily when she saw Shraga was in once piece. "What happened?" Azada asked out of breath from running to Shraga's room. "The princess was attacked by an assassin," explained the guard. He then motioned for his men to get to looking for the culprit.

"You are not hurt are you?" Azada asked even though she knew the answer.

"No I was able to defend myself," explained Shraga. Azada smiled at her daughter-in-law. Shraga smiled back and was happy that she was able to live up to Azada's expectation of her. Yet deep down she felt horrible. First she kissed Zolm. She hadn't wanted to but she ended up kissing him. Then she had hit Zolm and burned him. She had meant to only get him off of her. She ended up really hurting him though, and that oil burn was going to scar.

At the same time though, now every time he looked at his reflection he would think of her too. They may not be married but they were going to spend every day thinking about each other if they looked at their reflection.

She closed her eyes and wished Garsiv would just let go of the necklace. This entire time he had been holding on to it and she knew that he was trying to figure out what was going on with her. He wasn't going to figure it out through the connection so she wished he would just give her a minute so she didn't feel him too which made her guilt all the worse.

His presence suffocated her, and her head began to spin with the responsibility of betraying Garsiv like she had. She touched her lips and cursed herself angrily.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He couldn't figure out what was wrong. He could tell her heart was elevated and he could feel… He wasn't sure the emotion he felt radiating off of her but he wasn't happy with what he thought it was. It felt like desire. He squeezed the pendant until if cut into his skin painfully. He shivered with rising anger that he was having a hard time hiding. He wouldn't know what she was feeling, but just the thought of her feeling desire not by his hand infuriated him.

Then what he thought was desire quickly turned to heated anger. That he did recognize and he knew something was not right with his Shraga. He sat on top of his warhorse and silently worried what was going on back at home. He wanted to let go of their connection so he could concentrate on what was going on the beaten path they were on, but all he could do was try and fathom what was going on with her.

Then her anger turned into relief. He didn't know what was going on, but he knew he was going to ask her in his next letter that he sent to her. After a few more minutes of holding on to the pendant, he finally let go. He looked down at his hand and saw that he was bleeding. He wiped the blood off onto his tanned buck skin trous. He grunted in slight pain but then just put his hand back on the reigns of his horse.

He wished he were back at the palace so he could know what took place there. Not knowing was bothering him more than he thought it would. He knew this would bother him until this war was over. He was in for a long time of being worried unless he asked her in his next letter home and if she told him what happened.

He almost suddenly couldn't wait to stop to break camp. Yet tonight they weren't breaking camp. They had come to a pass in the mountains they were in where they had to keep riding until they could stop. The pass was too narrow for them to try and camp within it. The pass was also a dangerous place according to his father. All around here there where a tribe of wild people who would raid their camps in the darkness.

Garsiv sighed and it drew the attention of Tus who sat next to him.

"What is the matter brother? You have seemed to be bothered by something for the last few minutes," Tus asked as he stared at Garsiv.

"I just was just thinking of what would happen if we lost people we care about in this war is all," he lied.

"I understand that. But that is life and war. We will try our hardest to lose the people we care about but if it happens we will never forget how they helped save Persia from total invasion," explained Tus. Garsiv gave a slight smile and a nod of his head.

Tus looked over to his brother again and thought that there was more that was bothering Garsiv that he was just not sharing. He wanted to probe but Garsiv was not an easy person to get information out of. Tus nodded his head too and then went back to looking around in the mountains above them for any wild people that may be there to attack them.


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: I know this has taken awhile for me to post but to be honest I am trying to bring this storyline together before I get all crazy with it to the point it doesn't make any sense or sucks. I will tell you that eventually this storyline will fall into the movie, but that is many chapters away. I really am trying to make this a great story that is interesting so if it takes awhile to post it is simply because I am going over and over and over the chapter to make sure that it will fit with the direction I am trying to go. For this chapter alone I have scrapped 3 drafts because they sounded bad or didn't fit with the story or the characters. I do hope you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoyed finally piecing together this chapter. Please review and let me know what you think. Just a forewarning this is rated M for a reason so if you expected that would just be for sex you where wrong. There will be blood in this so just a warning. Also by the way: This is a very short chapter. It is meant to be short so don't think I just couldn't come up with anything lol. Also I have had a few ask how to pronounce Shraga's name. I pronounce it like Shrah-gah. If you say it slow actually pronouncing the 'h' it will sound funny, but if you say it a little faster it sounds better**.

He had fallen asleep holding onto the pendant. His fingers were curled tightly around its edges, afraid of letting go, even in his sleep. He had become very dependent of the pendant. H e liked the connection it brought them. He also liked that it seemed to calm him, except for the day he had felt her fear and what he had thought was desire. That was days ago, and he was months away from getting an answer out of her. So he just depended on the connection so he could feel her. It brought him peace of mind.

He could tell by her steady heart beat that she was fast asleep and soon after he followed her. All through the night he could feel her, he dreamt that he was next to her in her bed. He could also smell that soft scent of hers, clean and enticing. It was a wonderful night in his dreams until in the distance of reality a battle cry was let out. It was wild and crazed sound that carried over the entire camp like a clap of thunder from an oncoming storm.

He heard it even in his sleep but he couldn't pull himself out of his serene dream. He tried to wake but he couldn't. He struggled for a moment in confusion but simply figured that he would wake when he woke. Her scent was too enticing and kept him locked in place anyways. She rolled over into his arms and he wrapped them around her sleeping form. She was naked in his dream and he let his hands softly graze over her smooth skin. He could feel with the tips of his fingers as her skin prickled into gooseflesh from his touch.

After a few moments of enjoying her flesh he kissed her forehead and said goodbye to her, it was time to wake, it had to be time. Yet that did not work for him like he thought it would. He still lay with her in his dream unable to come back to reality. He didn't let it bother him too much though. He drew little circles on her back instead of worrying. She felt nearly sinful to him. He couldn't wait to get back to her to know if her flesh really felt this good on her back.

Garsiv could hear the horns of his men, sounding that they were under attack back in the real world. He needed to rouse but he didn't want to let her go. He tightened his grasp on her and buried his nose into her flaming red curls, letting the hair tickle against his nose as he inhaled deeply. Such a clean scent filled his senses that he was further pulled into his dream. Eventually he couldn't even hear the battle that was taking place on the outskirts of the camp because he blocked it out so he could enjoy what he was feeling now with Shraga.

"You need to leave," she whispered into the crook of his neck. It was a dream but he could have sworn he could feel her breath playing across his skin. He hadn't noticed that she had awoken in his dream, but it pleased him to know she was aware of him now. He leaned back so he could look at her. He smiled fondly down at her, but she did not smile back. Her lime colored eyes gleamed up at him. He thought he saw happiness there because she had not smiled, but he suddenly realized that it was fear that was glazed over in her eyes.

"I don't want to leave," he whispered back in protest. He leaned in and tried to kiss her and she turned her head, denying him. His lips ended up pressing against her cheek lightly. He withdrew and looked at her confused. He didn't know how being denied by her set with him. Part of him wanted to be upset, and part of him wanted to laugh at her boldness, even in his dream she was just like his Shraga.

"You have to. You will die if you don't," she said as she ran a hand down the side of his face. He grunted unhappily and his mind was brought back to his camp was under attack. Reality started to quickly suck him out of the dream as her words further sunk in. He would die if he did not wake. He was detaching himself from her after the weight of what she said took full effect of him. She was telling the truth. If he just laid there he would be a sitting duck for a sword to the throat. If he were going to die it was going to be during battle, not when he was fast asleep on his bed roll dreaming of his wife.

"Be safe," she said as he finally let go of her.

"I will," he replied right before he finally woke up with a shudder.

It was just in time too. A Scythian burst into his tent, armed with a long sword just as Garsiv opened his eyes. This man had blood on his face, and wore a grin fit for a barbarian. He said something that Garsiv didn't understand but what he did understand was that this man wasn't here to kill him. If he was, he would have already attacked. Instead he shouted in that foreign language that Garsiv didn't understand over his shoulder.

Garsiv rolled to his feet quickly and armed himself with the sword that Shraga had given him in one fluid movement. The man spit of the ground to show that he was not afraid of Garsiv. Garsiv smirked at the action and then attacked. He was great with a sword, but he quickly learned so was this Scythian barbarian. Their blades clanged together in unison and both fighters realized that they were evenly matched.

They took this battle between just the two of them out of the tent and into the rest of the battle that was going on around them. Garsiv was happy to see that his people seemed to be winning this battle. The Scythians obviously did not expect the magnitude of men they would have to fight against in the Persian army. Nor did they realize that Persian's were real warriors that could hold their own.

Garsiv quick being happy about their near victory put all his effort into defeating this one enemy that stood against him. He took stance in a low crouch with his sword arced over his head ready to defend himself. The other man smiled and took stance as well in a similar pose as if he were mocking Garsiv. No matter though, the man could mock all he wanted. All that mattered was if he was good enough with his sword to stay alive.

The man made the first move this time. He lunged at Garsiv. He twisted his body, trying to throw off Garsiv into not knowing which way he was going to go with his attack. Garsiv had been trained by the best men his dad could afford to put in the royal army though. Garsiv knew not to read a man's body, but to read their eyes. Their eyes always told the deadliest secrets as well as the secrets to what would end their lives. The man was trying to make it look like he was going to feint left but his eyes where looking right.

And just like his eyes said, he went right. Garsiv caught him though, for he was ready for the attack. He parried the man's blade with an expert skill. Garsiv took this opportunity to swing the blade near the man's head. The Scythian ducked which threw him off balance which gave Garsiv another opportunity to try and end the man's life.

He went for a stabbing motion, directed right at the man's heart. His sword never hit home. It was parried with another Scythian's blade that had come to the first man's aid. Now the fight was unfair, not a real man's battle. Two on one Garsiv could fight against, but the odds became dangerous.

Garsiv gave himself a good shake to make sure all the sleep that had held him earlier was gone so he could focus on the fight ahead of him. He rolled his shoulders stretching the precious muscles he was going to have to use to defend his life if he wanted to go home to see his wife ever again. He smiled fondly when he thought of Shraga. He wondered if she would just laugh in the face of two opponents. She was strong and she would be able to fight these men off. He laughed then. If she could do it he was sure he could too.

The men laughed back which made Garsiv trail off in uncertainly. What reason could they have for laughing at him? He suddenly felt unsure about himself. He remembered that the man hadn't been there to kill him. His mind worked as quickly as he could make it turn over to find out what was going on. It didn't take long to realize the answer though when six other Scythian's surrounded him. They were going to take him as a political prisoner. The comprehension hit him so hard that he just smiled at the man who had found him. He had done his men proud.

Yet Garsiv was a Prince of Persia so he would not allow himself to be taken without a fight. He took stance again and arced his sword. He was ready to try his best to defend himself against eight assailants. His odds were not good, but he would go down fighting.

A man from behind him was the first to attack. Garsive spun in a fierce circle and drew his blade deeply across the man's throat to the point that he hit bone. Blood sprayed onto his face and he would wear his enemy's blood with honor. The man dropped to the ground, still living, but bleeding out and suffering the entire time that his blood mixed with the red sand of Persia. Garsiv only watched for a second as the man convulsed and gurgled as he tried to stop his own bleeding with his hands.

After that man fell, another took his place, and Garsiv returned his attention back to the fight. This man was good. He lasted longer against Garsiv who seemed to be dancing a fatal dance with the man. Garsiv swung his sword with lightening speed to come against the man's attack. The man buckled under the weight of Garsiv's attack. Garsiv could hear the man's joints and tendons in his hands and wrists pop under the pressure.

The man looked surprised that Garsiv was the fast as well as strong. To be honest, Garsiv surprised himself. His need to win had taken over and his body went into its fight or flight mode. Garsiv swung his sword again after the man dropped his sword away because his wrists stung with effort. Garsiv show no mercy as he brought his sword down, lopping off part of the man's scalp and skull in one movement. Garsiv was astounded about how deadly he was, and how sharp the sword Shraga had given him really was. The man twitched and all his muscles at one time constricted. He finally fell over, dying on impact.

Garsiv heard a shout from the man who had found him and at one time all the men attacked him at one time. He was able to defend himself for longer than he had expected to. He killed two more men. One he stabbed in the heart with precision, and the other he had hit him hard in the temple with the hilt of his sword, killing them both instantly.

Yet eventually Garsiv became overwhelmed and his muscles fatigued from the fight. He started to slow as if he were moving in thick honey against his enemies. His sword whispered through the air at a speed less than what it had been. He found himself having a hard time blocking, and he was faultering. And then it happened quickly. He felt the hilt of a sword on the back of the head. He felt as if they had cracked his skull, even though he knew the blow was only meant to knock him out.

He went to his knees and desperately tried to keep consciousness. His vision became blurry and his head started to pound rapidly. He heard the men who still lived snicker around him before one of them kicked him across the side of his face. His head whipped to the side, making his neck pop uncomfortably in the process. He fell to his side, his face coming to rest in the blood covered desert sand.

He still tried to not lose himself to unconsciousness as he laid there. Yet ultimately darkness took him.


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: Alright I know I have been posting these a lot of slower than I was, but I am still writing, I have not given up. I am just having a hard time taking this the way I wanted to. At first I was trying to set up this whole love triangle, and I changed my mind about it. You will still see the after effects of Shraga and Zolm's kiss, this I assure you, but I am going to already warn that I am not going to set up for a love triangle anymore. The way I am going with this story, it is really not needed and it really will take away from the story itself. There are many surprises in store for future chapters, I just didn't want to keep writing and anyone wonder what happened to that plot point, or wonder if it was a plot point lol. Also if there are any grammar errors, over look them. I got so tired of reading this that I almost wanted to rewrite it. So I rather post it with a few mistakes than have to make you guys wait longer for me to write it again. Please review and let me know what you guys think.**

Garsiv was having one hell of a time trying to pull himself out of his stupor. It was like his dream that had held him earlier, except this time nothing but darkness embraced him. He preferred the other dream to this bleakness. He actually wished that Shraga was here with him in his dream. She would make it more bearable because he couldn't wake himself. He willed himself to open his eyes but they wouldn't comply with his commands. He sighed internally in aggravation. He felt like he had been knocked out for hours and he still hadn't come to, he wanted to make out where he was but couldn't. He knew, even if he was unconscious, that he was a prisoner of war. It was clear because they had not killed him, yet.

It unnerved him that he was so aware of his thoughts but he couldn't control his body. He tried again to make himself open his eyes, and nothing. He felt like a child that couldn't control his bladder while being scared by some sort of evil made up monster. He hated to compare himself to a child with a weak bladder, but it was honestly the only thing he could think of. No matter how many times he told himself to wake, nothing happened, just like a child tells himself to stop pissing himself, and can't.

Even in the gentle embrace of darkness, he wondered what if his family knew he was gone. Surely by now they had to know. Would they find him soon? He doubted they would. Scythians were good at hiding themselves in the mountains. If he had to guess where they were taking him now, he was sure it was somewhere deep in the mountains where he wouldn't be found even if his father thought he had overturned every rock in the mountains to find him. It made him angry to think that he was at the enemy's mercy. What did they want with him anyways?

He thought they were at war, not at taking prisoners. He tried to comprehend what they might do and couldn't think of anything. Maybe he was too deep in the darkness to actually think or maybe he was that naïve about political prisoners. Who knew really? He couldn't form a proper thought about the subject. The only thing he could really think about was: Where am I? Why am I here? And how is my family?

He suddenly felt a sense of dread. Were his father and brother still alive? Had they survived the battle? He wasn't sure why he just now thought about it, but he did. He would have shivered at the thought if he was awake, but since he wasn't, all he could do was wonder. They had to of live, there was no way that his brother or father had been killed in battle. But then again he didn't think he would be a prisoner of war. This war was surprising to him, so there was a possibility that his family had been slaughtered at the hands of the Scythians. Or maybe they too were prisoners? He would have sighed if he was awake.

Again he tried desperately to wake himself. He was overcome with the need to know what was going on in the real world. Yet again he couldn't control his body. The thought passed over him that he must be drugged and that was why he couldn't wake. Somehow he knew that he had not been drugged. No one had drugged him when he had his dream about Shraga and he had the same problem then. He was just this poor at controlling himself. So he gave up trying and just drifted in the darkness and his thoughts.

Even if he could not pull himself out of the unconsciousness like he had wanted, a Scythian could. He was roughly shaken to, and his eyes jerked open. He almost felt himself smile that he was finally awake. He kept his smile to himself as the sun started to burn his eyes painfully. He had a severe headache that started suddenly and he went to grab his head and couldn't. At first he didn't understand why he couldn't and he dropped the thought to look around.

The Scythian who shook him awake was the one who had initially found him when he woke in his tent. The man gave him a wicked smile, scrunching up his face in this unusual way. He then dropped Garsiv's shoulders, stood back, and spit on the ground next to Garsiv as a sign of disrespect. Garsiv blinked a few times to clear his vision so he could really get a good look at the man who took him. He might as well commit him to memory for when he exacted his revenge he wanted to make sure he killed this man.

Garsiv would kill this man, he would. He needed to spill the blood of man that had taken him into whatever they had planned for him in the near future. Garsiv gritted his teeth together as he thought of all the terrible things he was going to do to this man before he killed him. He then sighed, thinking of such things was not helping him commit the man to memory.

He was a rather squat man, with rough dark features, and an unruly beard that Garsiv was sure that caught more food than the man actually shoved in his mouth. To be honest though, no matter how unruly and rough the man appeared, Garsiv had to give the man credit for looking clean. He was covered in desert dust, that was for sure, but he wasn't as dirty as Garsiv had initially thought he would look, how he though all Scythian's looked.

Garsiv gave the man a smile and then looked around to gather where he was. He was in enemy territory, miles away from where he had been, somewhere in the mountains like he had feared. He wasn't even sure if he was in Persia anymore. He tried to think about how long he had been out, and he couldn't think of anything. He had been comatose so there was not telling how long he had been that way and how far he was from where they had taken him. He just knew that no matter what, the enemy would take him as far away as they could. And it looked like they had done just that.

The landscape was mountainous, and full of rocks. Garsiv tried to think about his geography studies from when he was a child, maybe that would tell him where he was. He realized that he should have paid better attention to his studies as a child. He bit the inside of his cheek to help control his rising anger at his own inability to look around and know right where he was. Even if he had paid closer attention as a child, he doubted that it would have made it any easier to tell where he was.

Garsiv turned his eyes back to the man who had found him. This man must really think he is something, almost like some backwoods hero. The Scythian wore a self important look, and held himself up very straight with his shoulders squared and chin held high. Garsiv had seen men just like him. They thought they were better than what they were. Yet he did have to give the Scythian credit, he did take him as a prisoner. Garsiv shook his head and then started looking around to the other men standing around them. They all looked self important and they all stood ram rod straight, except one man who sat in a high backed wooden chair. It was the first time that Garsiv had noticed this man.

He was sure, that the high backed wooden chair was supposed to serve as some sort of makeshift throne. In a way it was unsettling. The roughened wood surely must give the man splinters because it was not smoothened in any way. It looked like something Garsiv could make because he was no carpenter. The chair gave the man a hard edge that actually managed to quicken Garsiv's pulse. If the chair was supposed to strike fear into the hearts of the enemy, it had almost succeeded. Garsiv felt dread in the pit of his stomach as he stared at the chair. Just the chair alone was imposing. The man sitting in it was even more so.

This man didn't look self important; he just looked like he was imperative. He had his chin resting on the palm of his hand as he stared down at Garsiv who was sitting in the floor now after he picked himself into a sitting position. The man looked as if he were bored, which unnerved Garsiv even more. It was the best he could do because he had his hands tied behind his back, and his feet tied together at the ankles. That was the first time that Garsiv had realized that his hands were tied behind his back. He finally felt the rough rope cutting into the skin of his wrists as he tried to rise as much as he could.

This man was tall, Garsiv could tell by the length of his legs that stretched out before him. He was pretty hefty, the perfect balance of muscle against fat. He too had a scraggly dark beard, only difference was his beard was shorter than the man's who took him. Garsiv was torn to wondering what the more striking thing about the man, was it his cold golden eyes? Or was it the scar that started at the edge of his lips and curved up over his face and ended at his cheek bone? After further inspection Garsiv concluded it was both. His eyes were cold, yet fiery at the same time, and his scar gave him a freakish grin.

"Name," commanded the man in the chair. His tone was chilling. His voice was deep and guttural as if he struggled with the Persian common tongue. Garsiv stared upon the man unsure if he should actually answer. The man picked his head off his hand and let his eyes bore into Garsiv's. His gaze told Garsiv not to make him repeat himself.

"Garsiv Prince of Persia," he finally said. The words spilled effortlessly out of Garsiv's mouth. He should have hesitated longer to let this man know he was no coward to be pushed around. Yet the look on the man's face spoke volumes to the Prince so he had offered the information quickly.

"Garsiv, Prince of Persia… Not crowned Prince of Persia…" the man said more to himself than to anyone else. Yet his words struck fear into every man there, including Garsiv. All the smug faces of the men who stood around them, they all fell into a look of terror. "You brought me wrong prince," he stated coolly as he looked to the man who had found Garsiv. The man shrunk under his leader's cool gaze. The air grew thick and the leader gave a quick nod of his head that Garsiv knew didn't like what was going to happen.

It was quick, but by no means painless. The man's throat was quickly slit and thick rivulets of blood frothed forth from his mouth and spilled out of the deep slit. He convulsed all the way to his knees as his hands went to his neck in a desperate, yet failed, attempt to stop the bleeding. Blood seeped through his fingers and his eyes rolled back into his head. He gave one sharp intake of breath and then fell promptly onto his face, dead.

Garsiv stared on in horror. He did not think this man wouldn't kill him next if need be. The man sat forward in his chair and watched Garsiv's face with interest. Garsiv couldn't help but feel a slight bit aggravated. That man was supposed to his kill, and it had been taken away from him. "You are the wrong prince. I needed the crowned prince." Garsiv cut his eyes to the man and a grim look fell over his handsome face. He was going to die he was sure of it. He wasn't what these people wanted. He was still a Prince of Persia, yet he was not THE Prince of Persia.

"What do you want with my brother?" asked Garsiv, his voice breaking in fear as well from lack of moisture in his mouth. How long had he gone without water? He unexpectedly felt like he needed barrels of water to quench his undying thirst. His tongue was heavy and his mouth was too dry.

"With him I could rule Persia. With you all I can do is get a handsome reward."

The man's confession made a cold chill creep down Garsiv's spine. Would this man choose the handsome reward or would he still aim higher like he was? He would have reached up at that moment to touch the pendant around his neck for reassurance, but his hands were still tied securely behind his back. He was at their mercy, this he knew, and so did this man.

Garsiv thought that maybe he could plead with this man. Yet he knew that there was nothing he could say that would change this man's mind. On top of that Garsiv knew the man was right. He would only get gold for Gasiv, for Tus this man could have ruled all of Persia. He could have had them all in the palm of his hand if he had Tus. Garsiv was thankful then that the dead Scythian laying a few feet away from him in a puddle of dark blood had messed up. Thanks to that man Tus would not be used and for the most part Persia would be safe.

Then it occurred to him that if their plan had been to take Tus, their army must not be as vast as they had thought. Tus was the only way for the Scythians to win the war. As long as Persia could keep Tus safe, there was no way for the Scythians to win. Garsiv would suffer whatever this man had in store for him, but he had hope that Persia would walk away, even if he didn't. He was prepared to die for Persia as long as everyone else stayed safe.

There was only one thing that made him think twice about dying: Shraga. His chest clenched hard and he wished he could just touch the pendant. He just wanted to let his fingers graze over it one time just in case he never got to see her again. He felt sick and tried his hardest not to let it show on his face. He could not afford anyone here to see that he had a weakness. He tried to make his face as void of emotion as he could as he met the cold gaze of the leader of the Scythians.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

She hadn't felt him for a few days now and it was driving her mad. The first day made her nervous. She paced around her room with her sister in laws watching her curiously and even jumped at shadows. They had not said anything to her, or asked if something was wrong. It was clear to the twins that there was something wrong. Shraga looked as nervous as a cat about to be forced into a bath. So they had sat back and watched her pace, hoping she would be alright, even though it looked like she was not alright at all.

There were a few times the sisters thought to try and make her calm down. Both had decided against it quickly. They knew that Shraga had a temper that could rival the devil himself if she wanted, and the sisters didn't want that wrath pointed their way if they said something to upset the jumpy girl. They knew that Shraga would not mean to hurt them in anyway, but they also knew that one did not play with fire and not get burned eventually. Even if they played with the fire to calm it down, they still did not want to get burned.

The second day to the fifth day made her fall into a state of deep depression where she just laid in bed all day and night in her husband's room. She didn't speak, eat, drink, or move. Everyone was in awe how she could stay that way for three days. Yet she had held up her vigil as if she moved that something horrible would happen. She just laid there on her side and stared at the spot where her husband should be sleeping. Every now and again she would reach out and stroke the spot where he had slept the night before he had left. She forced herself into thinking that it was still warm, even though it had been weeks since he had departed for war.

Her mother in law sat behind her, combing her fingers gently through Shraga's fiery red hair in hopes to soothe the girl. She was careful of the curls so not to tangle her hair. Azada whispered everything she could to make Shraga pull out of this deep state of depression. She even tried to get the girl to eat, but nothing worked. Nothing the older woman said or did even got a response from Shraga.

It was hard to help someone if you had no idea what was even wrong with them. At first she figured it was from the assassin attack that happened what seemed only a few days ago. Yet something told Azada that was not it at all. It panicked Azada though. She may not know what was going on, but she knew whatever it was it wasn't good. She knew Shraga was very perceptive, and she could most likely feel that was something was wrong. Azada prayed that nothing was wrong but from the way Shraga was acting, she couldn't help but worry.

Azada had seen some of her husband's other wives act this way when they were younger when he left for battle. Azada thought maybe at first the fact that Garsiv was gone had finally gotten to Shraga. Yet Azada knew that they had not become close enough for Shraga to act this way. Also she knew even if Garsiv and Shraga had time to get close enough, Shraga was not the sort of girl to act this way. So Azada knew that something that the girl was feeling had to be a bad omen.

The sixth day, Shraga was furious, and she was furious before she even received the letter. She stood in the middle of her room and unleashed her anger on it. She had already destroyed a few pieces of artwork that decorated the room. She smashed vases, slashed her gifted jade handled dagger through paintings, and even overturned a desk, splintering the fine wood into many pieces. The sisters had been right about Shraga's anger. It could rival the devil's.

Shraga was livid and it was all because she could not feel her husband. She knew something was wrong, and it killed her on the inside to not know if he were dead or alive. She wished she could feel him, just one time would be nice. Anything that would just be a glimmer of hope would be enough to quell her desperate anger as she tossed another vase at the wall and watched as it shattered into many pieces.

Hot tears of fury fell down her face as she stared down at the broken porcelain on the floor and felt that resembled her heart at the moment. A sob found its way to her throat and she had to clench her teeth so to not let it pass any further. She was strong and she would not sob like an infant that needed its mother. She just wanted to know if her husband was alive or dead. She needed to know.

Her day got worse only a few minutes later. Azada burst into her room, crying. She held a parchment in her hand as her eyes landed on Shraga, completely ignoring the state of Shraga's room. Shraga stilled and her anger fanned for a moment for Azada to hand over the letter. She scanned the letter from the King until she found what she wanted to know, what she needed to know.

'Garsiv has been taken.'

She dropped the letter, not needing to even reread it to make sure that she had not seen something that was not there. Her husband had been taken by Scythians. She trembled as the anger came back tenfold. She looked to her mother in law, and Azada gave her a knowing glance. Shraga clenched her hand into a tight fist as she just stood there staring into Azada's blue eyes. She wished she could find it in her to cry, but all she could do was stare in complete fury.

Shraga knew Azada felt helpless, Shraga on the other hand was not helpless. Even through her rage, she was already thinking that she would find Garsiv, and she would kill the men who took him. Her spine shivered with anticipation, until her entire body shivered with anticipation. She pulled Azada into an embrace so that she couldn't read the terrible things in Shraga's eyes. She didn't want the woman to know what she was considering. She thought of Azada as another mother, and she wanted to spare her to the horrible things that she was planning to do.

Azada took comfort in Shraga's arms and she soaked the front of Shraga's tunica. Shraga didn't mind though. She knew that it should be reversed; it should be her crying in Azada's arms. She hardly knew Garsiv long enough to cry the way Azada cried over her adopted son. So she offered what little comfort she could give to Azada. She smoothed a hand down the older woman's hair as her mind drifted to how she was going to enjoy killing the Scythians just as much as they enjoyed stealing her husband away. Enjoy it now bastards, she thought heatedly.

When Azada left her, Shraga prepared to leave. She changed into her desert garb, and packed a bag with a change of clothes. She looked at herself in the mirror. She was going to bring home her husband. She had to; otherwise she would surely go mad without him. She stopped herself as she stared in the mirror. It abruptly occurred to her that she was more dependent on him than she had thought she would be. She was not daft enough to think she loved him or anything more than a fondness, she just knew that she would go mad without him here with her in the city. She was not sure if he died if she would be forced to stay in the palace. So in case if this were the situation, she was going to bring him home alive.

She closed her eyes and tried to will him to at least touch the pendant, just to let her know that this wasn't already a hopeless cause. She stood there for what seemed an eternity, and nothing happened. She didn't feel him or anything. She only opened her eyes when she heard someone entering her room.

Her eyes snapped open and she turned around to see Dastan standing in the doorway. She hadn't been close to Dastan before her husband left, but they had been sparring at least once a day since he had left. Dastan had come to her and asked her to help him get better. She had wondered how he knew she could fight, but he explained that Garsiv had told them that she was good with a sword. So they had been growing close. The look on his young face was pitiful and she swallowed hard as she looked down on him.

"You are going after him aren't you?" he asked after he shut the door securely behind him.

Dastan was a smart kid. She smiled fondly at him. Yes, he was a very smart kid. And the time they had spend together he had come to learn things about Shraga that Garsiv himself hadn't gotten the pleasure to learn. She realized then that Dastan was not a child, and she had never treated him like such up to this point, and she was not going to start now. He was just a year younger than her, but that did not make him a child. He was smart, strong, and loyal. In some ways, even though he was not related to Garsiv by blood, he reminded her of him.

"I must," she said. He was silent for a few minutes as they met each other's gazes. He seemed like he knew there was no way to stop her, but he had come to at least try.

"My father will find him. Shraga I know you are more than a desert Princess that my father chose to marry my brother. You were taught to be a warrior, I can tell because you are too rough around the edges and you use a sword better than Garsiv does, but… but if anything happened to you and Garsiv does come back… Garsiv would be furious if you were not here. So don't go Shraga. Stay here and wait. I know it will be hard to wait, but let them bring him back so nothing bad happens to you."

Her heart caught in her throat. He delivered his speech like a man. Yes, indeed Dastan may be a year younger than her but he was already a man. He was a man who spoke the truth, and he was a man who was right. Her face paled at the thought of just sitting around and waiting like an obedient wife. In her heart though she knew it was the right thing to do. She was only one person, no matter if she was a trained Hassansin, she was only one. There was no way she could stand up to an entire army to get her husband.

She knew her plan was to sneak into where they held him and take him, but she didn't even had the slightest clue where he was. She closed her eyes to hide her emotions to Dastan. He was even more right about if something happened to her. Anything could happen to her, and she knew that as well. Half of her wished that Dastan had never come in here to plea with her. The other half was glad he had. She sank to her knees on the cold marble floor.

When she opened her eyes she noticed that Dastan had done the same thing, for now he sat on his knees in front of her. "Stay for Garsiv," he whispered.

Before she knew what she was doing she was nodding her head that she would stay. "I promise to remain here until he returns," she whispered knowing that Dastan would not be satisfied until he heard her say it. She bounded herself here by a promise. Once she made a promise she would keep it. She wanted nothing more than to go kill the men who took Garsiv in the first place. Dastan had reasoned with her. He had spoke sense into her that she had not had because she was too angry. Garsiv would feel the way she felt now if something happened to her and when he returned she was not there.

She did not want her husband to feel the same helpless anger she felt. So she would remain. She would spend her days worrying a way a wife should, even a Hassansin wife would stay. She would wear black everyday just like her mother had done when her father had left to war when she was a young girl. Shraga would prepare herself for the worst. She would be strong here until the King returned with her husband, dead or alive.


	9. Chapter 9

**HAPPY BIRTHDAY AJ. I HOPE YOU HAD A GREAT DAY! I really hope you enjoy this chapter. Sadly though this might be the last chapter I post for a while. Next week is my birthday, and I have a lot of stuff coming up because I am joining the military. I will try to find the time to post some more, but to be honest I can't make any promises because I need to spend time with my family, friends, and getting things together with my recruiter to make sure everything is in order. Please don't hate me, I will finish this, just not anytime soon. But I do hope you like this chapter. Please review. **

Azada paced back and forth in front of the shrine of her deity. She prayed for two days straight that Garsiv would be alright, yet this morning they had received another letter that explained that he still had not been found, and most the Scythians had retreated. Neither could be found, and she knew that to fine one would mean to find the other. She just hoped that whenever they found either of them, that they found Garsiv alive. Her worst fear at the moment was thinking that her son could be dead.

She knew that Garsiv was not her biological son, but she loved him as if she had pushed him from her own womb. She had raised him into the man he was today. He would have been just fine without her she thought, but she liked to think that he fared better because he had her. She would hate to think of how he would have turned out without her guidance. He was always a rather severe boy, she knew, he took a lot after his mother. Azada had been gentle with him, and eventually he started to soften. So yes, he might have fared without her, but he wouldn't have turned out to be the man he was. He still had his moments when he was rather strict, but there was a softness in his heart now.

Her heart clenched frantically. She put a hand over her chest in the attempt not to panic. She did not know what would happen if they didn't find Garsiv How would her husband react? Her other children? Herself? Better yet… How would Shraga react?

She remembered after she had read the letter she had clenched it to her chest as if that would bring her closer to her family. She wanted everyone to be home, and she wanted them all home now. She feared for Garsiv, and she missed her husband and Tus. The letter had been written in her husband's hand writing and she wished he was here so he could comfort her. She desperately needed her husband's soft words, and warms arms. She didn't have them so she had to be strong, as strong as a mother could be in a situation like this.

She tried her hardest not to choke on a sob. She knew life was not easy, it wasn't even easy if you were the first wife to the King of Persia. She is a Queen, and her life was hard. She knew that her handmaiden felt the same way right now over her two brothers that served in the army, as well as her husband who served. She worried about her family just as much as Azada worried about hers. Her lower lip trembled was she silently, and selfishly wished for her family to be home.

So here she was again ready to start up another vigil of intense prayer in hopes that it would help her wishes come true. Azada was a woman devout to her faith and she knew every word and sacrifice offered to her Gods would help turn the hands into her favor, or so she hoped. She couldn't be sure if it would, but she knew it didn't hurt to try. She figured that her method of coping with his disappearance was better than Shaga and Dastan's anyway. Praying seemed like it would work, beating each other wouldn't.

They had been in the training grounds beating each other senseless with wooden swords ever since they had read the letter. She had watched them from afar for several minutes one day and she honestly thought that she needed to intervene because they looked as if they could seriously hurt each other. They were fast, swift with their blades, and they were deadly accurate. It was a Godsend that they were wooden swords, even if they could still bruise and bleed from them.

She had learned quickly that Shraga was better with a blade than she could have ever dreamed. When she got close enough to seriously hurt the younger man, she always slowed her attack so he could parry her wooden blade, which made Azada respect Shraga all the more. She also had the grace of the best dancers of the palace. If Dastan came close to hurting her seriously she would whirl around him as if he were nothing but an object in her path. Azada could not help but be amazed by what she saw. With the understanding that they needed to work off their own feelings about Garsiv in a way that settled them, Azada had left them alone.

Despite how skilled both were, last night when they had come in to check on her, they were covered in sand and bruises. Shraga even had a little blood trickle from her nose onto her leather tunic that Azada was sure she stole from Garsiv's room. She was not overly surprised to find them worse for wear but neither was seriously injured, so she hadn't said anything to them, other than tell them to go cleanse themselves. What worried her the most were the grim look they both wore. She tried to speak kind words to them in hopes to raise their sprits, it didn't work. For her to speak words to raise their spirits, she needed to believe her words. She had a hard time believing them though because she had a bad feeling. They had just looked all the more grim after she spoke, and so had she. So she turned back to her vigil and let them leave.

She knelt in front of the deity finally and bowed her head and started pray. She prayed for Garsiv first, and then she prayed for Shraga. After she prayed for them, she prayed for the rest of her family. She prayed for hours, keeping herself bowed and her head against the cool marble floor. She would stay this way until she felt better. It turned out it took seven hours for her to feel any sort of peace. But once it finally settled over her she rose and plucked a white dove from a bird cage and shoved a pin through its tiny beating heart. She knew a sacrifice must be made so she made one. She poured the blood of the bird onto the alter and whispered her wish for a safe homecoming of her family.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

"I don't think I understand Shraga…" Dastan whispered as he stared at her face. She sighed slightly and thought of a better way to explain to him what she was trying to say. She had not thought he would comprehend what she was saying, but she had hoped. She moved around on the couch she sat on in her room uncomfortably. Her body was stiff and sore from all the sparring they had done over the last few days and she was having a hard time finding comfort on this couch. She was used to working, but she was not used to sparring because she was angry. Anger took a lot out of her it seemed. She wondered if Dastan knew he had a gaze of a man who commanded authority she thought as she met his eyes. She doubted that he knew, but he stared at her with his eyes commanding her to answer.

After clearing her throat she began explain again, "You know that this world has magic, it surrounds us all. I was given a pendant from my grandmother/grandfather that is made of such a magic. I am not going to lie, I am not exactly sure how it works. I do know whoever owns it commands over that magic. It isn't as if the magic is powerful, it is just a link made to whoever I give it to. I gave it to your brother, and every time he touches it, I can feel him. I feel him almost as if he were next to me. Depending on what is going on with him, I can sometimes almost hear his thoughts. "

Dastan nodded this time, understanding just a little more than he had. "So you should be able to feel him? Is he alive Shraga?" he asked desperately. She pulled her bottom lip through her teeth nervously as she continued to hold his gaze.

Her expression fell after a moment of not being able to say the words she needed to say. She had been glad that she could explain it to Dastan and have him understand. Yet now came the hard part of their conversation. She had wanted someone to converse with over this matter and she had been spending a lot of her time with her younger brother-in-law. They had become fast friends. It felt right to speak about it, but it didn't feel right telling him the truth about Garsiv. That truth was that she just didn't know if he was alive, or dead. Her gut twisted and she felt nauseated. Maybe it had been a mistake bringing this up to Dastan? She was in too deep not to tell him now, especially as his eyes commanded her to speak, again.

"I have not felt him since the day they say he was taken…" she whispered. She was sure that at this moment that she should look sadder than she did. She should be crying as she spoke about it. All she wore though was a sad smile. Her gut twisted again. She wanted nothing more than just to feel the steady pulse of Garsiv's heart, or catch the barest raw thought. She had learned since giving her husband the pendant that he kept more to himself than he shared with others. He had a lot of raw emotions that he didn't share, and she knew some of them now. Her husband had been honest with her thus far, but from that connection she knew what he had really thought when he first found out that he was to be married. He had been furious. Furious to the point that he had almost thought of running away and never looking back. Learning this had wounded her pride, but she had understood, she too had felt the same way.

She also knew now when he first saw her he had wanted nothing to do with her either. He thought she was beautiful, but it was no love at first sight. She fathomed that she had felt the same way when she had first caught a glance of him from the shadows of the palace. She thought her soon to be husband was handsome, but it wasn't love at first sight. She also knew now that since he was away, he had more growing feelings for her than he had when he was here. She figured it was curiosity, because she found herself in the same position of caring for him more now than she actually had when they lived under the same roof. Time had been cruel to them though, they weren't afforded much time spent with each other. It had been very cruel, and now it only seemed to be getting worse.

Dastan hung his head at her words, bringing her back to the situation at hand. She would be blind to miss the tears in his eyes. "I don't know if it means he is not here with us anymore. But I do not know what of him, I really don't. I wish for nothing more for him to be alive, but I don't know," she said as she lay a hand Dastan's shoulder. He shrugged her off and then looked up at her.

"He is alive, I know it. Even if you can't feel it I can. The magic between brothers is stronger than whatever magic you gave him. We are brothers! I know he is alive. You wouldn't know because you are just his wife!" he spat at her.

His words pained her. She didn't let him know that though. She was too strong for him to see that. She simply nodded and looked away from him to hide the pained look in her eyes. He was scared, she knew that, so he spoke out of fear. Yet even thought she understood this too well, it still hurt. She knew that she was just his wife. Even better she knew that she was his untouched wife who would have nothing in this world she lived in now, if he died.

Her eyes fell to the horizon. The sun was setting in the distance. The view was beautiful from her room. She hoped that somewhere Garsiv was looking on the same horizon, and she hoped that he knew that she was there in spirit with him. She closed her eyes and tried for the thousandth time to will him to just touch the pendant. Nothing, as always. Her heart dropped into her stomach. She wished she would have left that day to try and find him instead of doing as Dastan asked.

"Shraga, do you think he could have dropped the necklace? Or someone stole it from him when they took him?" asked Dastan, drawing her attention back to him.

"Anything is possible. I would not know if someone took it away from him. I can only feel Garsiv through the bond. If someone took it, I would not feel them," she explained. She hoped that was the reason that Garsiv lost the pendant, or it was taken from him. But thinking such things didn't make her gut untwist. It would be nice to think that he was on his way home, but she had her doubts. She nervously ran a hand through her hair as she made eye contact with Dastan. He looked more hopeful than her. That made her hear sink into her stomach.

She should have more faith, but she wasn't one to give into faith. She wanted to, but she had always been let down when she put her hopes into faith. She didn't want to get her hopes too high and then it happen again. When her grandfather died she had hoped he would come back from his assignment and tell her all about it like he always did, she had sat on the sand dunes, watching to the west, waiting. He never returned. They found his body a few miles from the tribe. Her father had explained that he died from heat exhaustion. She later found out that another Hassansin killed him. She was young when he died so her father had tried to soften the blow. She didn't want something like that to happen to Garsiv.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He was starting to realize the man who sat in the high backed wooden throne was the King of Scythia. At first he had just thought that this man was the commander of the Army. He was in a way in awe that this man was like his father, rode with his army. But by the looks of it, he had not fought with his army, which made Garsiv's awe dissipate. His own father always fought alongside the army. He didn't sit back and wait for his men to return to him. His father was a man to respect, not this barbarian king who just let men die for him than to die beside them.

It had been a month now since he had been taken, and he found that he was no closer to figuring anything out because he did not speak their language. He did not recognize the scenery as they traveled either. All he knew was they were headed northwest. He might not know the scenery but he knew the stars enough to know that they traveled northwest.

Everyday they traveled, and always in this direction. And every day he was forced to walk tied behind the King of Scythia's horse. He was humiliated by this treatment, but he tried his hardest not to let it show. He held his head high and let the treatment continue because there wasn't much he could do. He just did what he was bid, and took the torture like any Prince of Persia would. All he could do was look towards the day he could exact his revenge on these barbarians.

The first few days had been the worst as he was tied behind the horse. The king made hard to break Garsiv in those first few days. He had ridden his horse at a swift trot and dragged Garsiv for miles. He had run behind the horse for as long as his legs could hold out, but he eventually couldn't keep on. His right leg gave out first as a severe cramp traveled up his thigh and he fell to the ground faster than he thought he would. He fell to the ground and was dragged through the harsh terrain of where they were. His body was bounced around against rocks, lacerating him in a few places, and bruising him harshly in others. After the first hour he was sure his arms had been pulled out of their sockets. Yet after that first hour he had blacked out, and welcomed the darkness that surrounded him.

He only woke later lying on the ground with a few soldiers twisting his arms back into place, and laughing the entire time they did so. When he opened his eyes for those few agonizing minutes that he could, he saw the soldier standing above him wearing the necklace that Shraga had given him. This man had taken it away from him the first day that he could get his hands on it. Garsiv reached out and tried to touch the pendant but couldn't.

Anger had touched every fiber of his body when he couldn't reach the pendant. He wanted to feel Shraga one last time because the last time just wasn't enough for him. He fell short from reaching it by a few inches. Because his arm was so swore he couldn't stretch those few inches to reach. It was killing him on the inside not to be able to attain the pendant for only a moment.

Garsiv looked at this man and made sure he committed him to memory. When he tried his escape, this man would be the first man he killed. The only problem was when he tried his escape a week later it had got him nowhere. Instead he received lashings that were deep enough to leave scars on his broad back. It had been worse that the next day he had to still run behind the King's horse with seeping wounds and still sore arms. After that, Garsiv was broken completely.

Now a month later he stood in the King's tent serving the man his meals. The King sure had a way of embarrassing Garsiv. Garsiv, over the month, had become the personal slave to the King. Garsiv waited patiently for his orders like an obedient dog. He may be broken, but he knew one day that he would have his vengeance. His eyes narrowed into slits as he stared at the back of the King's head. He would try to kill this man if there weren't four guards standing near at attention. They wouldn't hesitate to hurt him.

He knew they would not kill him. This he knew because he was not valuable dead. He was only worth anything to these people with a pulse. He inhaled deeply. He was trying to quell his anger. It didn't work. He was furious, and he would stay this way until he was able to kill them. He looked over and saw the man with his pendant. He would cause a ruckus just of have the man close enough to grab the pendant.

Last time he had tried he had received the butt of a spear to his temple, knocking him out instantly. He had come to realize no matter what it was as if forces worked against him every time so he couldn't at least let his wife know in some way that he still lived. Shraga… He breathed a silent sigh and turned his eyes away from the King.

What would she be doing right now? Would she be crying for him to return safely? He doubted it. Would she be sharpening a sword, readying herself for battle? More than likely. It brought a smile to his face to think that she would be ready to kill for his sake. This time he sighed louder, drawing the attention of a guard. The man gave Garsiv a sneer that silently said "don't make me hurt you". Garsiv looked away from the man, not wanting to start something over nothing.

He missed his family, he missed them dearly. But he missed Shraga the most. He wondered what he missed about her. It wasn't like he really knew who she was. They had not been afforded enough time to get to really know each other. They hadn't even had sex yet. Maybe he missed the unknown about her. Where at first he had been enraged about having to marry her, after a week of being married he had warmed to the idea. Getting to know his wife was actually in some way like reading a book and wondering what would happen next.

He wondered what would happen next with Shraga. He wondered a lot of things. It wasn't as if he had forgotten either that he wanted to know about that desire he had felt through the pendant. He chewed his lower lip as he thought. He knew it wasn't the first thing he would talk about when he first saw her. But he would ask her. And for some reason, he knew she would tell him the truth. He didn't know why he trusted her so much, but he did.

The first thing he would do when he saw her was kiss her. He didn't want to speak, he just wanted to feel her soft lips on his. He wondered if this need to see his family and Shraga again was the reason that he had broke so easy. It had to be. He was not a man who would easily become a slave for any other reason. He would rather fight against these men until his last breath. Yet here he stood like a servant. Damned near like a handmaiden. This thought made his blood boil about being a handmaiden.

He counted backwards so he could clear his mind of angering thoughts. He knew that this was reason he didn't fight. He wanted not to just see his wife; he wanted to see the rest of his family. He wanted to talk to Tus about military strategy again. He wanted to spar with Dastan. He wanted to listen to his father tell his stories. He wanted Azada to smile at him like she always did even though she wasn't his real mother. He wanted his half sisters to nag him like they always did. He wanted it all back. He did not want to be standing here. He wanted to be safe in the palace walls with his family.

His thoughts were soon interrupted because the King signaled him to fill his wine glass. Garsiv sneered but stepped forward and filled the King's cup.

Xxxxxxxxxxx

Tus watched as his father's face hardened. They had been searching now for three months, and it seemed that they would never see Garsiv again. Today they had been lucky to stumble across some Scythian scouts. The only problem about the Scythian scouts is that even through the most intense torture they never gave away where Garsiv could be, or even the rest o the army. They hadn't even uttered a word that the Scythians could have Garsiv. His father had them killed when they never spoke. It was dreadful, but this was war.

Tus, his uncle, his father, and three other officers sat in the King's tent. They all stood over a map, staring down at the figures. How hard can it be to find an army? Thought Tus as he looked down at the map. There were many people who made up and army. Certainly an army should have been found by now, but it still hadn't. Tus felt like they were close though.

It was unfortunate that the scouts hadn't talked, it would have saved them a lot of time if they had. About a month ago the King had doubled his efforts to find his son, as well as became more brutal in the search. They were all determined to find Garsiv, and they would do so through force is what Tus' father proposed. So far it hadn't been working the way they had planned, but Tus had hope.

He had to have hope, for others were losing it daily. His uncle had lost hope a few weeks ago. Even now his uncle suggested that they turn to home because there were bigger issues to worry about. It always gained a hurt look between brothers after he said this. His uncle knew his words cut, but he said them because there was a kingdom to run that had gone three month's without a ruler. He was still king, but it was hard to rule his Kingdom when he was chasing Scythians all over the continent.

Tus agreed with his father on the situation. He wanted to find Garsiv. He knew it would be hard to rule a kingdom when his family was not whole. Tus had not married and had no children of his own, but he knew if he did he wouldn't stop for anything to find one of his own children. He did not blame his father if it took the rest of their lives to search for Garsiv. As long as they were searching he felt like they were doing something right.

Tus knew, he just knew, that they would find Garsiv eventually, even if it meant killing every Scythian they came across. He knew his father would eventually come to this decision if it started to take too long. Tus whispered a silent prayer and felt as if the Gods told him that everything would be alright. He smiled and then turned his attention back to the next plan of action to find his brother.

Xxxxxxxxxx

It had come to nine months since Garsiv had been taken. Shraga would be a liar if she thought she was becoming used to the idea that Garsiv had died. However he had to live if his family were still looking. She lay in his bed, a habit that she had been holding up since he was taken. It no longer smelled like him, and it no longer offered her the comfort it once had. She sighed and turned over and rubbed the spot on the bed that her husband should be.

She felt empty, but for some reason it felt more than that to her. She was not sure why she felt so empty but she did. Over the last week this feeling at gotten worse. She sat up in bed and let the covers slip off of her naked form. Maybe it didn't help that she was in his room and he wasn't here. She got out of his bed, deciding to go back to her bed. She slipped into a silk robe and tied the sash securely around her waist.

After she finished with the knot she heard the door to the chamber's doors open. She looked up and saw her handmaiden entering the room. Shraga raised an eyebrow when she saw that the woman held two letters in her hand. "Mi lady," whispered the servant as she passed Shraga the letters.

Shraga opened one of them in a hurry. This first one was from Tus. It explained how they had started conquering land, slaughtering men like cattle, to get the attention of the Scythian army that was still running. He also said that he knew that Garsiv was alive because they had no reason to keep running otherwise. It made her heart thunder wildly in her chest to think that he lived and that they would hopefully find him soon. She knew that killing innocent people was cruel but this was war and she above all understood this because she was Hassansin.

Tus promised to bring her husband home at the end of the letter. She couldn't help but smile. It warmed her heart to know that Tus had personally written this letter just for her. She folded the letter neatly so she could keep it and lay it on the desk before she started to open the next letter. She froze she saw her mother's handwriting.

_Shraga,_

_ I hate to inform you my dearest daughter, but your father has passed away. It was a sudden illness that took him in the night from this world. I am sorry my sweet, I hope you do come home to see his pyre burn. Zolm has taken your father's place. Offer him a sacrifice in hopes that he will be as strong a leader as your father once was. _

_ Your mother._

Shraga dropped the letter and looked up into the face of her handmaiden. The letter was all formality, but she knew how to read Hassansin undertones. Her father had been slain his sleep like an animal. Zolm had done it, she knew, even her mother knew. There was nothing they could do though. This was the way of the Hassansin's. She wouldn't go see her father burn. It would be a disgrace to watch a slaughtered man burn. If she went she would have to kill Zolm.

Every fiber of her being hurt with anger. It was so deep that she felt tears start to slide down her face. Her husband was in enemy territory, and her father was dead. And she could do nothing about any of it. "Go tell Dastan that I need to speak with him," she whispered as she sat on the edge of the bed and wiped the tears away with the back of her hand. She wanted nothing more than to go back to her real home and kill Zolm. He could have just fought in the tournament like he was supposed to and won. He was a great fighter, he could have led with honor, but instead he killed her father.

She hoped that he came here soon, she would kill him. She would exact revenge for her father. She knew that the chances he showed his scarred face around here again was slim. She touched her lips and cringed. She could not believe that she had kissed him. It made her sick to think she kissed the man who killed her father.

Dastan entered the room, drawing her out of her thoughts. She turned to look at him. Over these last nine months he had grown taller, and more handsome. She had a sisterly love for him and she was proud that he was becoming even a more of a man than he was when she first met him. He stopped though when he saw her tear stricken face. It was a good thing that she had been crying in anger, it made it seem like she actually grieved for her father.

"My father passed away," she whispered as she stared up at him. He sighed in pity, and then instantly put on a hard face because he knew Shraga enough now to know that she was not like normal people. He knew that she didn't want comfort, she just wanted to talk to someone. He also knew now that she didn't want to talk about her father, she just wanted to talk to someone about anything other than the letter that sat heavy in her hand.

"Your brother says he knows that Garsiv is alive. He explains that the enemy is running too hard for them not of have him," she said, instantly changing topics from her father.

She watched as the younger man's face brightened. "I told you he had to be alive, I told you," he said with a huge smile on his handsome face. She smiled back at him and felt that it would be a horrible thing to do to tell him that it still hadn't been confirmed that he lived. It was too pure a moment to squash his hopes.

"What are you going to do when you see him again?" asked Dastan suddenly as he let his eyes happily bore into her. She sat a few moments in silence as she thought. She was a little thrown off from the question, so she didn't know how to answer. She really had not thought about it. She sighed as she held her smile so not to ruin the moment.

"I am going to love him," she finally answered.


	10. Chapter 10

**AN: I know it has been a while. I have been going through a lot. I joined the military, now just trying to spend time with family and friends before I leave. I would like to send some love to booksnmusic for encouraging me to keep writing, I 3 you! I hope that everyone enjoys this one, let me know. This is a short chapter, it is that way for a reason. BTW I love Metalocalypse, Toki is my favorite! Listening to Dethklok while I write this!**

His vision blurred in and out of focus because of the heat. Just put one foot in front of the other, he told himself. Soon they would have to stop for a break. They had to stop; otherwise they would all eventually start to die. They may be people of the dessert, but eventually they needed to rest. This he was sure of. They had entered a desert three days back and if they did not stop to the Scythians would risk losing what men they had left.

He felt the incessant tug of the rope that bound him to the King's horse around his wrists as he started to drag his feet. He immediately picked up pace because he could not afford to fall and be dragged for miles again. His body could only withstand so much damage and he was almost at the brink. It was beyond hope that the King would give him his own horse. Surely the Scythian had to know that he was worth more alive than dead.

Maybe the King liked to see Garsiv in pain. A week prior he had Garsiv chained and beat for spilling wine. The next day Garsiv had fallen behind the horse and was dragged for miles. Which opened some of his wounds from the whipping, and sand entered his wounds. He was lucky they hadn't started to fester, but only because a servant had been kind enough to clean him up.

He questioned the intelligence of the King though. If Garsiv died out here in the desert the King would forfeit his life. Yet as Garsiv was forced to trot behind the horse with his wrists tied before him, he didn't think the King knew that. He struggled against the bonds and was thankful they weren't as tight as they were the day before. The day before the rope had cut deep into his wrists after rubbing them raw. Blood had trickled down his hands for the better part of the afternoon as he stumbled behind the King's horse. Today though they weren't as tight.

His wounds looked as if they were hot with infection. He hadn't the time to actually study them for he was having to stumble around, but if they stopped soon he would have to remind himself to check. That was if they desert heat didn't make him forget first. A man could lose themselves out here in the red ocean with the blistering sun hanging over head. He hoped that if they were infected, that the same kind servant who helped before, did so again.

Resisting the urge to lick his lips again as he thought of the red ocean of sand, it reminded him how thirsty he was. The army was not lacking of water, but they only spared him enough to survive. He sighed loudly and tried to not think about how even hot water would be the most refreshing thing that touched his lips.

Then they finally stopped, the King halting his horse, and holding up a fist signaling everyone else to do the same. Garsiv sighed heavily before sucking in a great gulp of air into his dust filled lungs. He tried not look overjoyed by it. He felt that if the King saw him smile that they would push forward just despite him. Yet he probably couldn't smile anyways, because he was so tired. The muscles of his face were even too exhausted.

The King climbed down from his horse and tossed the rope that bound Garsiv to a nearby guard. Here is where the real work began. It was becoming routine for him to help set up camp. It took hours and it felt like days as the hot dessert sun beat down on him. His skin was taking on a darker complexion now because of it. He wondered by the time he got home would any of his loved ones recognize him, would Shraga recognize him?

He pushed his loved ones to the back of his mind though. He had more pressing issues to worry about. Like not messing up tying the ropes to the King's tent. He had messed up once and he had gone without food for two days because of it. He was already growing too thin, and he didn't know how much longer his body would last without meals and the exertion he went through every day.

For a moment his hand instinctly traveled up as if he were going to grab the necklace Shraga had given him. He stopped mid motion, remembering it was lost to him. He had eventually lost track of what guard had the necklace because he got stationed somewhere else in the vast sea of men that traveled with them.

It was hours later that he was shoved into the King's tent, where he was meant to serve the King. Yet when he started going towards his area where the food and wine was laid out he realized the King was not there. He was alone, or so he thought. From across the tent, where the bed was, came a slight whimper. He looked around and judged that he was not going to get caught if he investigated.

He made his way to the bed, trying to figure out who had whimpered. As he got close enough as he dared, he realized a woman sat on the bed crying. He cleared his throat and she turned to look at him. Her blue eyes caught him and he couldn't look away. He had seen sapphires that weren't as wonderful as her eyes.

"Help me," she whispered gently. She moved closer to him, as close as she could because she was chained in place on the bed. The heavy chains bruised her perfect skin; he could see the dark bruises on her wrists from where he stood. He gave her a sad look, feeling nothing but sorry for this woman. He shook his head, trying to make her understand that he too was a prisoner. Her eyes softened in understanding. She turned away from him, to hide her tears he supposed.

He wanted her to look upon him again though. He wanted to stare into the depths of her eyes again. He glanced to the side where the entrance of the tent was. It was still closed and he didn't hear anyone near the entrance. He almost went to her side, but he didn't, for it would be his luck that he was caught touching her. And he wanted to touch her. He wanted to know if her skin was as soft as it looked.

He felt his chest clench. The cold reality hit him then. The King was going to have his way with this woman. Garsiv studied her for a moment from where he went to start preparing to serve the King. She had silver gilt hair that looked softer than silk. Her skin was alabaster, and he wondered how she managed to stay from the sun. While Garsiv just wanted to touch her, the King would break her.

She was beautiful. She was stunning. He looked away feeling ashamed for not being able to help such a beautiful innocent creature. That was until he caught a glimpse from across the room. There on a heavy wooden table, scattered with maps of the red sand sea, was a dagger. He looked back to the silver haired woman thought about how with that dagger, he could free them both. He checked the entrance of the tent again, it was the same story. No one was near the entrance.

He heart raced too fast with excitement. How stupid of the King to leave something as simple as a dagger lying around. Garsiv quickly retrieved it and hid it in the waist line of his pants. At his quick movements the woman looked at him. He had already hid the blade so she only stared onto him confused. He gave her a simple smile and with that she turned to hide her face from him again.

Tonight, he thought, he would be a free man. He knew he needed a plan, but the first cog was in place, he had a weapon. As he worked, he started to think that this could possibly be a trap. If he were King, he would do something of the sort. It couldn't be though. He had to remind himself that this King of Scythia was not as smart as he, Prince of Persia. So he kept the dagger and continued to work.

After making sure the table where the King dined was ready, he then found himself finding stuff around the tent to set out. The King, he had come to learn, liked to be reminded of his home, where he must have many furs set out. So Garsiv started to set out furs, that way the King would feel more at home. He wanted the King to feel safe. As he was setting out more furs he picked up one that felt like it had something in it.

He unwrapped it slowly and was stunned to find his sword wrapped in it. He had thought it lost. He gripped the hilt, remembering when Shraga had given it to him. His heart felt like it skipped a beat. He may not have the connection to her because of the necklace, but he sure enough had a connection to her because of the sword she had given him. He thanked the Gods that the sword had not been lost like he had thought, and he quickly wrapped it back up.

Yes, tonight would be the night he became a free man. He didn't know how he had come to be so lucky, but he didn't want to question it. To him the Gods had spoken, and he should not question their judgment. He hid the sword near the space he would sleep on the ground, and he then went about his business. He would wait, and then he would strike.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

The palace was in chaos. A few weeks before the King of Persia had returned, handing down the responsibility to Tus to bring home Garsiv. And now the trumpets sounded in the distance to signal the return of the army. It turned the palace into a nightmare to prepare for their return.

Servants ran wildly through the palace to prepare. The palace floors were being cleaned, the golden trim on the marble walls was being polished, and a feast was being prepared to feed the entire army. Even from the bed chambers, the wives and concubines could smell the feast they were preparing, while most of them prepared for the return by themselves without the help of their maidservants, who had been spared to help elsewhere in the palace. There were a few who remained to help their women though, for that was all they knew was how to serve the ladies of the palace.

Shraga sat in Garsiv's room, looking out the window so she could watch the main road entering the courtyard. Tears streaked her face because they would only return this soon without word for one reason, and only one reason. They must have found his body. Her shoulders shook, and she bit the inside of her lip to try and not cry, but she couldn't stop herself.

It had almost been a full year now and she was going to see her husband again finally, but as a corpse. Her lady stood close by, waiting to help her prepare for their arrival. Shraga didn't feel much like moving. Her husband was out there, coming this way, in the back of a wagon. She clenched the soft sheets of the bed into fists.

At this very moment she wanted nothing more than to be home. She wished for that year ago when she lived in the dessert, and sparred with Zolm. Anger bit deep into her heart. She wasn't in the dessert with her people. She was here with her new people, with her corpse of a husband being carried this way. Now her shoulders shook with a different reason. The raw fury ripped through her entire body.

She would make Scythia pay for his demise. This she promised herself. That country would burn to waste, and drown in an ocean of blood. And it would be by her hand that they would do so. Yes, she would make sure that they paid dearly for killing her husband. Another round of tears rolled down her cheeks, and she started to taste blood. Don't fight the hurt, she told herself. Just let it all out before anyone else sees you, she whispered in her mind. She didn't want to be seen as week in a time where she needed to stay strong.

She let her head sink into her hands as she allowed herself to wail in front of the servant. She found herself grateful that the servant came forward to calm her down. "My lady, do not be solemn, I am sure he is alive," she whispered as she smoothed a hand down Shraga's hair.

"They would have sent word if he were alive," Shraga nearly growled. The servant only sighed. She knew not to argue with Shraga. Arguing would only end with more broken valuables. Shraga was a fan of breaking things when she was angry.

"My lady, you should allow me to dress you, the first of the horses are passing through the gate now," whispered the servant. Shraga nodded her head and let the woman do her job. Within moments she was dressed. She turned away from the window, not wanting to see the wagon that had his body. She would wait until they brought him in.

The servant wiped away Shraga's tears. A gong sounded from the court room, signaling that the Prince Tus had returned. Shraga trembled as she thought that everything was happening too quickly. Just a month ago she was sure they would bring her husband home, but she had thought he would be alive. And now she was leaving Garsiv's room and heading towards the court room to receive news that her husband was dead.

She balled her fist up at the thought. She was going to kill the Scythian bastards. She held her head up high, and squared her shoulders. She finally made her way to the tall golden doors leading into the court room. Guards worked hard to open the doors for her and once they opened she stepped over the threshold.

She was stopped in her tracks though when the first person her eyes landed on was her husband. There he stood, living, breathing, and laughing even. She swayed slightly as if to faint, but a guard put a firm hand on her elbow to steady her. "Garsiv," she whispered in disbelief.

There he stood, speaking with his father, after all this time. There was her husband. He was right there! Her heart leapt wildly in her chest and she wanted to scream his name, but she couldn't even make herself do anything, because at that time she saw her husband wrap an arm around a silver haired woman's waist.

"Father, this is my wife; Iryanna," stated Garsiv as he turned to look the lady in the eye. From where Shraga stood, she could see it in his eyes, the love he had for the woman at his side.

Just as she was about to react a heavy hand firmly laid on her shoulder. She turned and looked at Tus. "Be strong," he whispered. Her lower lip trembled, but she nodded. Yes, be strong, your husband is alive, she told herself.

She turned back and when she did Garsiv and her made eye contact.


	11. Chapter 11

**AN: I honestly don't have the want to write this story. It really is starting to feel like work but mostly because I have bigger things on my mind. So these chapters may be shorter because of it. Eventually I will get back to it, but at least I have not given up. Plus I know of few of you want instant answers, but the story of Garsiv and Iryanna isn't going to be just explained in one chapter. So be prepared to have to wait for the answers you want.**

She did not understand the emotions that she felt at seeing her husband standing before her alive. She however did understand the rage that coursed through her at seeing the woman who stood next to Garsiv. It was not uncommon for a man to take more than one wife, especially royalty. The King of Persia had four wives, and many more concubines. Though she knew this could happen, she had no idea that it would happen before she even got to consummate her own marriage to the man. In a way this would mean that she wasn't his first wife. That fact infuriated her all the more.

There was a hierarchy among men, and there was a hierarchy among their wives. The first lay with her husband was considered the head of his household. If this woman had already lay with Garsiv that meant that Shraga was not the first wife. Her hands mad angry fists and her nails bit into her flesh because of it. She clenched her teeth, grinding them together. If she wasn't careful, she would break a tooth from the pressure.

Garsiv gave her a sincere smile which for a moment blew at the flames that licked her. She could tell from his smile that he had missed her as much as she missed him. As much as that pleased her, there was a golden haired vixen that made her realize that eventually he got tired of missing her. The anger came back tenfold. If they were alone she would have exploded into a fit of anger, screaming, throwing things, maybe even attacking him. Yet all she could do standing in the crowded throne room was turn an intense shade of crimson that almost matched her hair.

The look she gave him didn't stop him from coming to her and kissing her simply on the cheek. She wanted him to take her into his arms and kiss her senseless, but there was others around. She was only going to get the kiss on the cheek. She took the scrap she was given, and was thankful for that.

"I have missed you," he whispered as he tucked some of her hair behind her ear. She gave him a small smile. She wanted to tell him how she felt though. Later she would tell him. Later she would let her anger spill over. But also later she would take him into her arms and love him fiercely.

"How?" she asked instead though. Their eyes locked and he understood he needed to explain how he had come to stand before them, especially with a new wife. Shraga gave the woman credit though, she stood there demurely.

Xxxxxx

After he found the weapons the night went pretty much the way it always did. Garsiv served the king, just like he usually did. Everything was the same, except the weapons he had hidden in his pallet on the ground. Everything he did though that usually caused him to wish for anything less humiliating caused him to smile. Sometimes he wished that he could just be tied to a post where men could throw things at him. Acting a servant to the King humiliated him. He had it all figured out though, and he could not wait until the time came for him to do as he wanted.

It was sloppy of the King to leave the weapons practically lying around. Who knew that the King would be his own undoing. Garsiv had to sober himself though. He was too happy and he had to calm himself. He shouldn't celebrate before the deed was done. The deed would be done though, and when that moment came it would be sweet. Garsiv would eventually be home again with his wife. The thought of Shraga in his arms again warmed his heart.

Before he knew it, the King was ready for bed, which really meant he was ready to take the scared woman chained to his bed. All of this meant that it was time, time for him to regain his life back. It had almost been an entire year. He couldn't waste another day, not that he was just wasting days being a prisoner.

He went to lie on his pallet, to give pretense that he was doing what he is supposed to do. The woman on the bed whimpered like an animal and that made Garsiv act quicker than he had expected to. He grabbed the sword and dagger and was upon the King within breaths times.

The King gave a small gasp, but Garsiv clamped a strong hand over his mouth to stifle any other noise that tried to come out. The dagger was plenty enough to kill the King with. The blade slid into his back between the ribs straight to the heart. The King trembled and Garsiv felt it through the hilt of the dagger and the hand clamped securely over his mouth.

Garsiv leaned forward and whispered his farewell to the King. At that same moment the King let go of his last breath. He pulled the blade out and blood trickled from the body. Garsiv stared down at the dead King only for a moment, a huge smile plastered on his sand covered face. It felt good. It felt almost sinful. He was a free man again, well almost. He still needed to leave.

The woman whispered her thanks and Garsiv knew then he couldn't leave her. He hurried and unchained her. It was an easy feat to accomplish when the key to her bonds was on the hip of the kings trous. As she stood, rubbing her sore, cut wrists, Garsiv went about grabbing things they would need. Mostly that consisted of a few furs, some clothing, and as much food and water skins that he could stuff into a pack. They had to travel light, but they had to have enough supplies to make it back through the dessert.

He handed her a cloak and she glanced at him funny. She had obviously thought since he freed her, he meant to just leave her. There wasn't time to explain, they could be caught at any moment. So he just gently took her hand into his after helping her put the cloak on. Her skin was too smooth, and he found himself thinking of Shraga's calloused hands. This woman did not know work the way his wife did.

"We must hurry," was all he said. She nodded her acceptance of him taking her with him. It was better than being alone. He cut a small hole into the tent and pulled her through it. His next move was to steal a few horses. In the distance he could see the King's own destrier. It would be another sweet victory to steal that horse, but he knew war horses. They were only faithful to their rider. So instead he made his way to three pack horses towards the outskirts of the herd. They nickered softly at their approach but did not spook.

He cooed them gently as he saddled them with the supplies that lay in a heap. These men didn't expect anyone to try and escape, so they didn't take their saddles with them when they unsaddled their horses. It was within a few moments that he had two of the three horses saddled and the other one packed with the things they needed to survive.

He helped the golden woman mount her horse. She seemed uneasy in the saddle. It made no matter, she would learn to ride quickly or he would be forced to leave her behind. Before he too mounted his horse, he checked his belt. He had both his sword and his new dagger. Once he was sure he had everything he needed, he was on the horse and they were one their way into the surrounding darkness of the dessert.


	12. Chapter 12

He was lucky that the horses they stole were dessert ponies. They were t rained to lay when given the proper pressure with the legs. Usually this technique was used when there were sandstorms. The only thing that threatened them were the sentries posted around the outskirts of the army. The man in question was walking past them from where they lay. He was about 15 yards away.

It was close and he could see the terror in the golden woman's eyes. She did not have to speak for him to know that she was terrified they were going to be caught. Being caught wasn't an option for Garsiv. The horrific things they would do to him if they caught him if they didn't flat out kill him on the spot made him shiver at the thought.

He knew what he would do to a man if the situation were reversed. That man would pay dearly for what he did. Just like Garsiv would do if they were caught. His fate would be horrible, but the woman's fate would be far worse. They would rape her, as many of them as they could before she died. Garsiv stared at her for a moment feeling sorry for her.

He had to protect her. He reached out and touched her arm. She was shivering with fear. He squeezed her shoulder so he could give her strength. Eventually her tremors stopped and she gave him a halfhearted smile. She was beautiful in that moment. One day she would make a man very lucky to have her. He smiled back at her before turning back to look to see where the sentry was.

The thought of just killing the man crossed his mind. It would be his luck that this man wouldn't die silently like the King had. He had been lucky to make it this far, he didn't want to test that luck. The sentry was further away than he was a moment ago. His only option was to wait for the sentry to double back to sneak up on him if he were going to kill him silently.

It wasn't long before he was running through the desert sand with his dagger drawn. He was on the sentry in no time, drawing his dagger across the man's throat. The man made a slight gurgling noise as Garsiv slowly lowered him to the ground. He stayed with him until he died, making sure he didn't make any more noises. Once it was safe, they were back on the horses and were escaping.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

They had been traveling now together for many hours, both not speaking from fear that their energy would be expelled by just talking. It was well past noon, the sun was at its hottest, and he knew that soon they would have to stop and make for camp. If they were being chased, they had nearly a day on their pursuers. They had been riding so hard that they had killed one of the ponies, but they had two more that they didn't ride as hard. But they had managed to put as much distance between the army and them. He would be lying if he said he wasn't happy with their progress.

Finally they broke for camp. He didn't fully unpack the horses for they could not stay long. He unrolled only one pallet for her to sleep on when she was ready. He wouldn't sleep, he needed to stay watchful until he felt they were at a safer distance. They sat next to each other and nibbled on some bread and shared a water skin together before he would make her rest.

"I cannot thank you enough," she whispered, she was the first to speak. He almost didn't hear her. Her throat was so dust ridden from the desert that she coughed after speaking. He gave her a small smile and looked at her.

"I couldn't leave you there," he whispered.

"Why?" she asked curiously as he passed her the water skin to clear her throat. She took a few long sips from it. The water was hot, but it sated her and helped soothe her throat. She licked her chapped lips and looked into his eyes.

"They would have blamed you for his death, probably would have…. Killed you," he stated. He almost told her the truth, that they would have raped her countlessly before torturing her to death. He cleaned up the truth as much as he could. He had this need to protect her. He had to be honest with himself, he would have left her if he hadn't been so enamored by her beauty. Guilt struck him hard at thinking that way.

"I owe you my life then Prince Garsiv," she said as she gave him a sad smile.

"You owe me nothing, once I have returned home I will see you back to your home." He felt like his words were nothing more than empty promises. He wouldn't want to see her leave, but if she wanted to go back home, he would see to her happiness.

A tear slid down her cheek, streaking its way through the dust on her golden skin.

"What is the matter?" he asked.

"I have no home to go back to. They slaughtered everyone in my village except a few of the girls. I supposed they deemed me the prettiest because I was spared and was given to the king as a present."

He could tell she was holding back. She was internalizing her pain and wasn't sharing the horrors she had witnessed back in her village. Her strength wasn't the same as his wife's, but he did give her credit, she was trying her best. He tried to imagine the same thing happening to Shraga and knew she would have never allowed herself to be captured. She would fight until her last breath, or until she killed every man who tried to take her.

He nodded and understood her predicament. He looked upon her, and she was very pretty. He hated to admit it, she was even prettier than his wife. A frown plastered upon his face as he felt the stirring of desire for this woman. On impulse he reached out and tucked some of her golden hair behind her ear. Without even thinking twice he spoke and the words that came out of his own mouth surprised even him.

"I will marry you, you will have a home, and you will live comfortably. I won't be able to bring your family back, or make you forget the horrors that you have been made to witness, but I can try and ease your pain by giving you a better life as my wife. That is if you accept."

"You don't even know my name," she whispered, not even hiding the fact that he had utterly surprised her. If anything she may have expected that he would make her a servant or even a concubine, but he had just proposed and didn't even know her.

"We are a long way from my home, and we have plenty of time to get to know one another." He knew her beauty was clouding his judgment, but he simply wanted her as his wife, more than he had wanted Shraga. He felt extreme guilt bite him, but he was a man, and he wasn't immune to selfishness.

She nodded understanding his logic, but she still seemed unsure.

"What is your name?" he asked.

"Iryanna, I was named after my grandmother," she replied sweetly.

"Iryanna you can refuse me you know, but if you would have me as your husband, I would be honored."

She seemed to think of her options, but she gave him a small shy smile. He knew she wouldn't refuse, this gorgeous woman was to be his wife.

**AN: Okay so I know I just made all of you hate Garsiv, and maybe even hate me. Buuuuuuuuuuut, this is how the history would have been like during this time period. And despite if I have made you hate me, I still love you all! Sorry this chapter was short, I just haven't the time to really explain everything, especially when it has been a while since I have really thought about this story. But the point is made and there is other stuff I want to focus on more than how they get together. **


	13. Preview to the next chapter

**Well, I must say it has been a while, and I can't guarantee that it won't be a while longer until I am able to post again. I know as a reader when you are invested in a story it SUCKS when the author doesn't deliver. I have not abandoned this story. It truthfully is one of three that are my favorites to write. It will be a few more weeks until I am able to catch a break to come back and start posting like crazy. This time that I haven't had the chance to write has fortunately been a good break for me because I have been dealing with some pretty terrible writer's block. **

**I wish I had the time now to write, but the chapter that I had been working on is no where near complete. I explained to one of the readers that I am a bit of a perfectionist when I am trying to make a point. So the next chapter I really want it to have some feels in it. Trying to push Shraga into a place that she hasn't ever been before. I can give you a preview though. So do read the font that isn't bold if you want a preview on what I have been working on, or exit now so I don't get you guys wanting more. **

The silence said it all. It was pregnant with a number of emotions. He scanned her face for the tenth time during her vigil of silence. For the life of him he didn't know what she could possibly be thinking. Neutral wasn't exactly the word he was looking for as to describe the expression she was giving him. It was more expressionless than he could ever think to describe. He couldn't show her that her silence was making him impatient, but he couldn't hide the way he nervously kept scanning her countenance.

"Say something," he finally demanded in the most even tone he could muster in her presence. Her eyes snapped to his. Goodness, staring into their depths with his own he realized how much he had missed getting to look at her. He was naive enough to hope that her eyes would be able to tell him what she was thinking as well. Nothing is what he got. How could she train herself this much to have zero emotion to be shown?

"What is there to say," she finally said. It certainly was no question. She wasn't looking for him to tell her how to feel. She was stating that there was nothing for her to say about his decision. Nothing. He was going to only get nothing from her. A sigh escaped his lips and he hung his head just a bit. What had he really expected anyways? The truth was, he hadn't really expected anything. That was because he had honestly never thought about it.

This was his culture though. There wasn't anything to be ashamed of, and there wasn't any reason she should be angry with him. Was she angry though? He really couldn't tell. Shraga was an enigma, and she was his enigma. His chest swelled with a moment of joy. He had to remind himself that she was his. Eventually the way she felt, however that may be, would pass.

"This is my culture," he surrendered, as if that was something he could hide behind as to why there was now another woman he called wife.

"I am not ignorant, there is no need to give me a cultural lesson."

Anger seeped its devastating way into his heart. Shraga knew just what buttons to push to infuriate him. He stood from the chair in a flash, knocking it on its side in the process. He came to stand an inch from her, his hand raised with a finger pointed in her face. Her breath danced across his face, and he could smell the familiar scent of peppermint leaves on her breath. It occurred to him then that her breathing was even and steady. She was not fazed by his show of anger, and she defiantly looked up into his eyes.

"I am your husband-" he started. There was a whole speech in his head, making its way to his tongue just so the words could be spoken. However she cut him off.

"Are you?" she asked.

**And that is it for the preview. I know it isn't much, but hopefully you will see the work that is going into this. I love you all, and I hope in a few weeks I can share the rest with you!**


	14. Chapter 13

**AN: Alas I have finally found the time to post this! This may be rough in grammar and I apologize in advance for that. I have reread this probably so many times that I could recite it. My problem is I start to just add to it instead of just looking for mistakes. So if any of you find any please let me know and I will edit it. Sorry if it is short, I swear though I have been working on it so long that it felt longer than what it really is. I hope you enjoy. **

He had explained everything to them all, and no matter how proud he was about how he had taken the notion to marry this stranger, he had done it without the council of his family. There was also the under tone from the questions he had received that made him realize the woman standing behind him was not of royalty. The marriage didn't offer anything but personal appeasement to his conscious. The alliance of marriage to a prince was to help both parties involved. Shraga was a desert princess so their marriage brought the allegiance of their people together. The marriage to Iryanna did nothing to their kingdom, as well as nothing for her people. He had long learned that Iryanna came from a simple folk and she had been nothing but a serving girl amongst them.

He could feel their disapproval. More than anything though, he knew that Iryanna felt it too. She stood where he had left her when he went to greet Shraga, and she stuck out like a flame in the dead of night. His brothers stared her over as he explained. So had his adoptive mother and most of all his father. Some gazes had been judgmental, others just seemed perplexed. There had been a few times he had met the gaze of his father and had fell silent with his tale because he couldn't seem to tell what his father was thinking.

Garsiv could not see the harm in his hasty marriage because she wasn't of a lineage that would benefit their status. Dastan had been brought into the palace and raised as his brother and he had been nothing more than a street urchin. If Tus and Garsiv both passed, it was the adoptive street urchin who would succeed them all. So this being the case of his father's compassion he couldn't believe anyone would be having a difficult time with accepting Iryanna.

Shraga was the only one who seemed to refuse to look at her. There were so many things that needed to be aired. He needed to get Shraga alone so they could speak. Their eyes met, and his brown eyes softened so much towards her. While his eyes softened to the woman he loved, hers stayed cold. He never missed the flicker of her muscle twitching on her jaw. Heavy with guilt, his heart fell into his stomach. Did love always hurt this much? And when had he become so sure he truly loved Shraga? The woman was stranger to him.

It was in this moment he realized. There had been times before where he had contemplated the feelings he had for his first wife, and there had been times where he decided he loved her. It wasn't until this moment he truly understood the love he had for this wondrous stranger.

A year of being away from the stranger he called his wife she had changed. There had been a time about a month ago in the desert when he had thought Iryanna's beauty surpassed his Shraga's. Standing in front of her now, looking at her for the first time in the longest time, he realized that his fiery red headed wife had blossomed into a true beautiful woman.

Her hair had grown and was even wilder with curls than it had been before. She had also filled out. Beneath the see through yellow gown she wore he could see the swaying of her breasts as she breathed. She had been so thin when he left, only her muscles gave her the shape she had had, and her breasts weren't as big as they are now. She had gained a healthy amount of weight. He could see her shapely legs as well. Once he had glanced them before he had left and could see the sinew of her muscles moving beneath her skin. Now her thighs were deliciously plump. She was still thin in stature, but she had filled out nicely in the year. Her body had become more womanly.

He looked back into her gaze after assaulting her body with his eyes. He caught the scar over her eye and he reached out and ran his thumb over the top of her scar. He needed to be alone with his first wife so he could speak to her, and also so he could touch her. When he withdrew his hand from her, he resisted the urge to grab a handful of her wild curls. Later, he promised himself. Later couldn't come sooner, he thought though a bit disappointed that he needed to still speak with her. A year was a long time to be away from someone he had grown to care for before he had left. He had cared for her too, but only now did he truly know he loved her.

Garsiv would be an idiot to believe that Shraga wasn't angry. He had married another woman. Without a doubt he knew she would understand when he was able to explain that he had let his pity for the woman guide him in the decision. He glanced over his shoulder at Iryanna who gave him a small genuine smile despite the way everyone made her feel displaced.

"You must be exhausted," Shraga stated.

He turned back to Shraga and answered that he was, but he realized she wasn't speaking to him. She had her intense green gaze locked onto Iryanna when she spoke. Iryanna tried to speak, but when she opened her mouth no words came forth. He had warned Iryanna that Shraga could be intense. When he had warned her it was so she would be able to stand up for herself if need be. The girl didn't even had need to stand up for herself because Shraga was being kind, and the girl couldn't even say anything. Meekly she nodded her head that she was tired.

"Come, let us get you cleaned up and then you may rest," Shraga said taking charge. He was proud of her, she was his first wife, and she asserting her dominance in his household. Iryanna nodded and started forward, everyone watching her move to Shraga's side.

"Excuse us Garsiv, and Saraman my king," Shraga stated as she started to turn to leave.

"Mother, accompany them will you?" suggested Tus before they could leave the throne room. Garsiv watched as their mother nodded that she would help. Everyone knew why they wanted Azada there. It was in case Shraga became angry with the woman. There needed to be someone there to calm Shraga down in case if the women didn't get along. They all started moving again to the exit.

"Shraga?" called Garsiv.

She stopped and turned and looked over her shoulder at him.

"Yes?"

"When you are finished helping Iryana, join me in my chambers," he commanded. They started at each other for a long moment before she tilted her head to him in acknowledgement. He was relieved that she didn't just shoot him an angry look and move on like he thought she would have done. She truly had grown so much.

* * *

She took Iryanna to the harem that was reserved just for the Princes' wives and concubines. Seeing how there were just the two of them, the room stood empty besides the sudden entourage of serving women who joined them. Shraga turned to her own handmaiden and requested the girl to go retrieve several of her best gowns so that Iryanna could borrow a few of her choosing. It wasn't as if she flashed it in the other woman's face that she was going to allow her to borrow her best gowns, it was just she felt that if they were going to have to share her man, they might as well share her things. To this day Shraga still wasn't materialistic anyways.

"The blue stola from the Macedonian merchants too. I think Garsiv will be pleased with that color on her. It will bring out her eyes, and her lovely hair." The servant nodded and bowed before leaving. Shraga didn't have to see the surprise on Iryanna's face to know the woman was perplexed by the gesture.

They entered the chamber and Iryanna beamed with what looked like awe as well as fear. Shraga eyed her without trying to hide it. The other woman was lovely, and by comparison nothing like Shraga. Had he disliked her so much he had to marry the complete opposite of her? A sadness inched its way into her heart in a worse way than it had when she had thought they were bringing his body here to the palace. Had she truly been so displeasing?

Iryanna turned her blue eyes to Shraga's and they held each other's gaze for a moment. There was respect shinning behind those sapphire orbs. She feared Shraga, but respected her authority. How could she? Unless Garsiv hadn't explained that even to this day his and Shraga's marriage had not been consummated. Had he already touched her? Bile rose to her throat and she swallowed it down. Of course he had. How could he not? It had been a fallacy to think that he would actually wait to receive Shraga's most intimate object, her virginity, when he hadn't wasted a moment in marrying Iryanna. All men eventually gave into their base needs.

In a moment of anger at herself she found that she truly couldn't be mad with him because this woman still hadn't the idea that Shraga hadn't been touched, and it was his right to marry her anyways. Above all she found the hate she felt for this woman start to melt away. Could she truly hate her when she was nothing more than a victim? She had been asked to marry a prince while out in a desert. How could she had said no? Base desires for women could be their undoing too. Shraga suffered internally for two other people's bad decisions, but she would not let this make her a victim. She just hadn't the clue that it would be harder not to become a victim than she originally thought.

"There is a bathing pool through here," explained Shraga as she turned and started towards a door.

"You don't have to do this for me," said Iryanna hurriedly. Shraga stopped and turned. Azada who has been silent the entire time finally took the moment to speak.

"Of course she has to my dear, you are now her sister."

"I just don't want to burden you."

"It isn't a burden to help you," said Shraga, trying to sound convincing. It was a burden but she had a responsibility now to this woman because she was loyal to her husband.

Iryanna considered Shraga a moment. Silently judging her. Shraga hadn't the slightest thought as to what the other woman could be thinking. Frankly though, she didn't rightly care either. Let the woman think what she will. She had a mind of her own and she had every right to use it.

"Garsiv has never spoken ill of you. He has praised your strength and mind ever since I have gotten to know him. I however pictured you in an ill light of my own choosing. I stand corrected though. I feel I must apologize for thinking so negatively of you without knowing you."

Shraga was silent for a moment and regarded the other woman's words carefully. There seemed nothing ill of her words, and the sincerity of which they were delivered touched Shraga's heart. This woman had been through a great ordeal, and she stood apologizing to her new sister. Shraga couldn't deny the strength it took to do that, admit you were wrong.

"Don't apologize yet, you may still end up hating me," replied Shraga with a smile. It took a woman to apologize and admit that they were wrong of thought. Iryanna passed her a sweet smile back and it pulled at Shraga's heart again.

"What my…. Our husband may not have told you because he doesn't yet know himself is I am the jealous sort. As much as I find I want to apologize for receiving you so coldly, I find I cannot. I however will show you the kindness you deserve because you are my sister. With time I will learn to accept you I promise. For now though it is-"

"Hard. It is hard for you. I understand, and I do not begrudge you of your feelings towards me nor Garsiv. I find if I were in your place and you in mine, I wouldn't be able to do what you are doing for me now. You are just as strong as he told me, if not stronger."

Shraga couldn't stop the feeling of pride that swelled up through her at hearing those words. Garsiv had spoken about her with such praise. As happy as she felt for his words, his actions still twisted at her heart. There was a moment where Shraga's face fell and she glanced towards the exit.

"You should go to him," Iryanna suggested kindly. "You haven't seen him in so long, and I am sure wish to see him in private."

"I promised to help you first."

"But you have, and I am sure Queen Azada of Persia can make sure I look respectable as well as with the help of your hand maidens."

"Shraga, go," commanded Azada. Shraga found it odd that Azada agreed with Iryanna. What was even more surprising is when Azada didn't tell the girl just to call her Azada.

Shraga tried to gauge how the older woman felt about the younger girl. She couldn't tell though. Without too much more thought though, Shraga bowed her head to both of them and left.

* * *

"I didn't expect you so soon," he said when she entered his chambers. He had just arrived and hadn't done anything else but start removing his weapons when Shraga joined him. The door shut behind her but she moved no further into his room. Staying near the entrance made him think that it was her safety net. By the look on her face, she didn't want to be alone in his room near him.

"Iryanna requested that I come to see you, Azada stayed with her."

He nodded. It was something that he would expect from Iryanna in the short amount of time he had known her. She was a sweet girl of fifteen years old. While there were times he had truly questioned is decision to marry her, there were times like now he didn't because of her selflessness. The girl had a kind heart.

Now wasn't the time to discuss the morality of his second wife. Now was the time to discuss the many things he knew he needed to tell Shraga. The way she couldn't seem to make eye contact with him now that they were alone bothered him. He had wounded her pride more than anything he figured. If there had been one thing he had learned about Shraga before he departure a year ago, it was she was a prideful creature.

"I pitied her," he blurted out. "She had gone through so much I presumed with losing everyone she knew, and then having been chained up like an animal…" He didn't really know what else to say in explanation for his actions so his voice trailed off.

"Pity is a horrible emotion to make a huge decision on," she whispered. "Especially when you very well could have just offered her a position as a servant in palace."

He nodded his agreement. It was a bad emotion to have while he made a decision that changed his life. It didn't just change his life, it changed her life as well. More than that, he very well could have just offered her a place among his home as a servant. Iryanna's beauty had clouded his decision though. Garsiv found that he couldn't admit that out loud to Shraga though. The decision made had to be stood behind otherwise he would always feel the regret of it crawling into his heart.

He placed a hand on his desk to help steady himself. He wouldn't tell her he was actually too tired to have this conversation now. Garsiv owed it to Shraga hash this out. There were things she needed to understand. One of which he was her husband and his choices she as his wife had to stand behind. Fair it may not be, it was her place by his side that she had to come to terms with.

"I haven't touched her," he finally said. He knew if there was anything she needed to hear it was that. Shraga understood hierarchy among men and women. This she needed to know above anything else he could have told her in that moment. Shraga was his first wife and he wouldn't take that away from her. When they had said their vows, Iryanna and him, he had promised that he would wait to take her, just as he had for Shraga. Except Iryanna had been willing then. He had wanted too, but his promise to Shraga and knowing that she would adhere to hierarchy among his house he couldn't touch Irynaana until he had first touched Shraga.

"You couldn't wait to marry her, but you could wait to touch her?"

His entire reason on what he did make no sense to her. This he could tell. He grunted for he wasn't sure what to say. Deciding not to answer her question for it would only anger her he asked her a question instead. He understood her meaning though. If he had only waited to take her hand until they could all have talked him out of such a hasty resolution. That is not what he wanted though. He wanted to take Iryanna as his wife and he had done so. So he ignored her question.

"How have you fared?"

Garsiv welcomed the change of subject. When he didn't get an answer he knew that Shraga didn't take the bait. He scanned her face. She looked determined not to answer him. The skin of her jaw jumped from the way she was grinding her teeth and staring at him. An idiot could see the rage behind her eyes if there had been. There was uncharacteristically nothing though.

The silence said it all. It was pregnant with a number of emotions. He scanned her face for the tenth time during her vigil of silence. For the life of him he didn't know what she could possibly be thinking. Neutral wasn't exactly the word he was looking for as to describe the expression she was giving him. It was more expressionless than he could ever think to describe. He couldn't show her that her silence was making him impatient, but he couldn't hide the way he nervously kept scanning her countenance.

"Say something," he finally demanded in the most even tone he could muster in her presence. Her eyes snapped to his. Goodness, staring into their depths with his own he realized how much he had missed getting to look at her. He was naive enough to hope that her eyes would be able to tell him what she was thinking as well. This entire time he had hoped for nothing more than to be able to read her like an open book. Nothing is what he got. How could she train herself this much to have zero emotion to be shown?

"What is there to say," she finally stated. It certainly was no question. She wasn't looking for him to tell her how to feel. She was stating that there was nothing for her to say about his decision and that how she fared in his absence didn't obviously matter. Nothing. He was going to only get nothing from her. A sigh escaped his lips and he hung his head just a bit. What had he really expected anyways? The truth was, he hadn't really expected anything, this he knew in his heart. That was because he had honestly never thought about what her reaction would be like to him bringing home another wife.

This was his culture though. There wasn't anything to be ashamed of, and there wasn't any reason she should be angry with him. Was she angry though? He really couldn't tell. Shraga was an enigma, and she was his enigma. His chest swelled with a moment of joy. He had to remind himself that she was his. Eventually the way she felt, however that may be, would pass.

"This is my culture," he surrendered, as if that was something he could hide behind as to why there was now another woman he called wife. He did not know much about her own way of life before they were married, but from the distance he felt from her now he assumed that life in the desert tribe from which she hailed was different from his own.

"I am not ignorant, there is no need to give me a cultural lesson."

Anger seeped its devastating way into his heart. Shraga knew just what buttons to push to infuriate him. He stood from the chair in a flash (he hadn't even realized he had taken a seat), knocking it on its side in the process. In a beat of a heart he crossed the room. He came to stand an inch from her, his hand raised with a finger pointed in her face. Her breath danced across his face, and he could smell the familiar scent of peppermint leaves on her breath. It occurred to him then that her breathing was even and steady. She was not fazed by his show of anger, and she defiantly looked up into his eyes.

"I am your husband-" he started. There was a whole speech in his head, making its way to his tongue just so the words could be spoken. However she cut him off.

"Are you?" she asked.

That shut him up. He backed away from her, giving her the space she needed. On instinct he reached up trying to feel for the pendant that he once wore to feel her warmth surround him. It wasn't there, and it hadn't been there in a long time. He just couldn't seem to stop himself for wanting to touch it in times when he wanted her to comfort him. The ironic things was she stood in front of him and he turned to that pendant to calm himself.

Then suddenly he remembered that time which seemed so long ago when he had felt her desiring another. He hadn't understood it and he for the longest time had forgotten about it. He cleared his throat and then turned so he couldn't see her when he asked. Garsiv wasn't sure he could stand the look on her face when he brought it up.

"When I was gone, there had been a time when I reached for the necklace you gave me. I felt something interesting. It had taken me a while to understand. Yet once I did, I don't think I could really ever forget. Who was he?"

More silence filled the room. The air was thick and when he finally turned to look at her, she had tears streaming down her face. His heart broke at seeing her like this, just as he was sure her heart had broken when she spied his arm around another woman. He hadn't married Iryanna for anything other than the pity he had felt for her. When he asked his question to her, it suddenly looked like Iryanna was brought into the palace to punish Shraga for a mistake she had made a while ago. Her tears were silent, and she angrily brought her hands to her face to wipe them away in some show of defiance.

"His name was Zolm. He had been a friend during my youth. He climbed through my window with the intent to take me for his own. I cannot deny for when he kissed me I felt things against my will. When I realized the extent of what he wanted to do, I smashed an oil lamp into his face. He raged and tried to kill me because of it. I claimed him to just be an assassin because it seemed easier than explaining the truth to the guards and your mother. In after thought I should have probably told the truth on the matter, but I also felt it would cause strife among my people and yours. He is supposed to be my father's successor, and he made a foolish mistake that I branded him for."

He watched her as she spoke. Her hand unwillingly went to her lips and there was a horrifying look that fell over her face. She was ashamed of the way her body had responded to Zolm. And Garsiv felt ashamed that he felt the need to even bring it up. He bit the inside of his cheek to calm himself. He couldn't though. He shook with a fury. If he ever met this Zolm he would kill the other man for trying to take what belonged to him and that was Shraga. He was also angry at himself. This entire situation was getting out of hand and it was because he didn't realize his actions actually had consequences. Also her reasoning on telling everyone that Zolm was actually an assassin made sense to him. She had made a choice that protected her people but also protected Zolm. It wasn't out of any friendship that she had done this Garsiv realized. It was a political choice. If she had stated the truth on the matter it would only be natural for Persia to take a stance against Zolm, which could cause strife among her people. Her decision had been no more than to protect her people. When he had made the choice to marry Iryanna he hadn't been protecting no one.

Though her explanation made sense to him, the fact that she had felt desire for another still bothered him. In time I will get over that, he thought. He had too. Could she truly be blamed for something she couldn't help? Could he be blamed for marrying a woman because he desired her? He sighed at the internal fury he felt for himself. She had almost killed Zolm to protect herself from that desire she had felt. What had Garsiv done? He married that of which he desired.

Busying himself with picking up the chair so he could hide his anger. It occurred to him that day so long ago that his father had told him to stay, that he should not have argued to with him. He would never tell her that he had begged to go to prove his worth as a warrior in a real war. He had though. He had begged to go, and because of that he hadn't been here to protect her. He had also brought back another woman. Garsiv hadn't really taken the time to try and think about the way his wife would feel throughout this entire ordeal. Bringing back another woman had insulted her, and he was just coming into realization of this fact.

Garsiv had insulted his wife and wounded her pride because he was blinded of the beauty of a fifteen year old girl that he had pitied. There was no way to make it not as harsh as it truly was. After picked up the chair he turned to look at his wife. So many thoughts spun through his head but only one stuck. Say it, he told himself. Tell her…

"I am sorry," he whispered.


	15. Chapter 14

**AN: Short, but it was on my mind and I wanted to post it before I tried to change it.**

His only answer was a small grunt from her. The inner turmoil that she silently fought was ripping her apart. Never would she voice it though. Duty called her to obey him but her self-respect called for her to lash out at him. She chose the first. He had just apologized so she needed to act. She squared her shoulders and rose her chin like she had seen Azada do some times when made decisions in the stead of the king when he had been absent during the war. As she mimicked his mother it brought a strange look to his eye. It wasn't that Shraga wasn't a strong woman who couldn't hold herself well because he had observed her doing so since he met her. There was just something in the way she drew herself up that brought a look over his face that she hadn't seen before. Maybe he was impressed? Scared?

"There is no need to apologize," she lied. There was every reason for him to apologize. There was just no longer a reason to keep beating a dead horse over the subject. Talking about it wouldn't change the cold fact that he had married another, and that she now had a sister she didn't want. She regarded him for a moment, watching him become uncomfortable under her gaze. He looked just as uncomfortable as she felt. Yes, she would have to say that he looked scared.

"There is every reason-" he started but she cut him off by raising her hand. She didn't want to hear the excuses of how his pity had blinded him. She didn't even really want to hear the truth about how he had desired the other woman so much he married her. What would have been worse though? Marrying her? Or bringing her home as his concubine? Shraga didn't have an answer and she was sure she would never come to find out either.

She would survive. This would make her stronger. Everything in this life made her stronger. Marrying him, leaving her family, being alone this entire time… All these things had made her stronger. She dropped her hand back down to her side. The silken material of her dress rubbed against the outside of her fingers. It was the only thing that told her that her hands were tightly fisted at her sides.

"You should rest," she demanded, immediately signaling that they would not speak any more about this. At the moment she wanted to be very far away from him so she could think. Millions of thoughts spun around in her head. Each thought worse than the last. I would have been happier back home with my people, she thought for the thousandth time within the few seconds after she told him to rest. She gave a slight bow of her head to him then made to leave. He stopped her quickly in her efforts to make an escape.

His long calloused fingers wrapped securely around her wrist. She spun around on her heal, twisting in a way that loosened his grip on her. Her free hand was upon him in an instant and she had his wrist bending his arm in an awkward angle. His grip fell from her wrist all together because if she applied any more pressure to his wrist at this angle, the bone would snap. Shraga pushed away from him as quickly as it happened and she covered her mouth with her hands.

"I am so sorry!" she gasped between her hands. Why had she done that? Of course she was mad but she never meant any harm to him. She watched as he rubbed his wrist. Already it was swelling slightly. She watched as he let go of a shuttering breath. There would be no denying that she had either sprained his wrist or worse pulled ligaments.

"Who taught you that?" he asked. She had already proven herself with a sword, but she hadn't ever shown him she was adequate in hand to hand combat. Shraga felt the cold realization hit her hard. There was a lot her husband did not know about her. Yet to tell him the truth now would hurt him. Zolm had taught her that move. He had been her sparring partner for much of her training until he had scarred her.

"My father," she lied. If she thought about it, she was becoming a very skilled liar. He nodded. For a moment she waited for him to become angery with her. To her surprise he only smiled. It was small at first, but then his lips broke into something that signaled that he was truly happy.

When he glanced up at her she knew he was proud of her, all traces of him being scared gone. He was not mad. Of course his arm would be sore for a few days and at the moment the swelling was at its peak causing his wrist to have limited motion. None of that mattered, he was delighted with her because it was writ upon his handsome face. She noted that he needed to shave. His beard was the longest she had ever seen it at and it wasn't well cared for.

"You are just as I remember you," he said.

"You aren't as I remember you," she retorted.

There was a moment in which he closed his eyes and guilt passed over his face. She had to remind herself that he had said he was sorry. The thing was he actually seemed sincere when he had said it too. Worst of all she believed that he was truly remorseful for what he had done to her. None of this mattered to her. There was still this ever growing hole in her chest. She was beginning to feel so empty. Could she forgive him?

His hands were on her again. When had he moved so close? Why did she allow him to touch her so intimately? Shraga began to feel the panic rise up in her. She was about to strike out again, fully intending to shove him away. She stopped though when the back of his fingers trailed against her cheek. His breath danced across her lips as he tucked some of her hair behind her ear. He then hooked his fingers around the back of her neck and pulled her closer to him. His forehead met hers and she closed her eyes.

His skin was warm and his breath smelled of sweet wine. She could smell all of him thought. Sweat, wine, sand, and horse. His fingers at her neck tangled into her wild curls and his free hand touched her waist. No! Her mind screamed at her. Do not let him touch you, she told herself. Her heart though kept her rooted and still to his advances. Deep down she knew she wanted him to touch her, comfort her. She needed the very man that hurt her, to heal her.

The hand that was on her waist moved to her back and pulled her closer to him. She molded against him. Their foreheads were still touching, but now she could feel all of him pressed against her. He tugged her hair a bit so that he could pull her head back enough so that they could look at each other. She opened her eyes and met his deep gaze.

"I am sorry," he whispered. Her breath hitched as she felt his other hand on her back burning through the thin silk clench against the fabric a bit. "I am so sorry," he repeated.

"I know," she finally replied to shut him up. His words did nothing for her, it did not fill the emptiness she felt.

What did start to pour hope into her was the feeling of him against her. One of her hands that rested on his chest from when she had made to push him away could feel the rapid beat of his pulse. He was nervous. Good, she thought. He ought to be nervous. He was sorry, and he was nervous. These two things mixed with him being pressed so close made the anger she had started to fade. Suddenly before she could stop herself she made another demand of him.

"Kiss me Garsiv."

There was a second where he looked stunned by her demand but he complied nonetheless. His head eased back into her space. There was a moment of pause and she felt her heart quiver in anticipation. His breath was against her lips again. There was a tingling in her stomach before his lips came to rest against hers. She closed her eyes and found herself pressing her lips against his. He felt like fire that would consume her if she allowed it.

So for an instant, she allowed herself to be consumed. The world melted in the background and there was only the two of them. There was no obligations, no hurt, and most of all suddenly there was no Iryanna. His hand wound further into her hair, and boldly she let her hand raise up to his neck where she touched his Adam's apple. The tingling in her stomach started to spread outwards throughout her when he moved his mouth against hers more fervently.

There were no words needed for her to understand how much he had missed her. The way his mouth moved against hers in order to claim her told her everything she needed to know. She could feel the blood begin to rush to her lips, beginning the bruise he would leave on them. He drew her bottom lip between his own and sucked not too gently.

Almost a year ago she had felt this way with Zolm. She had been pressed against a wall then and she hadn't wanted to feel that way for him. Now, desire pressed throughout her for her husband like it had never done before. His tongue was insisting she open her mouth to him as he lined the seam of her flushed lips. This felt right. There was nothing wrong for the way she felt now with Garsiv.

Except when she opened her mouth to him and he backed her into the nearest wall when his tongue plunged into the darkness of her she lost her control on the situation. Being pressed against the wall made her think of Zolm and the desire she felt for her husband reminded her of how she felt for Zolm. The flash of the memory sickened her. It was not that she was sickened by how she felt for Garsiv, but the memory of Zolm was more scarring to her than the scar he had left on her eye all those years ago.

The hand that was on his throat tightened and pushed at him all at once.


	16. Chapter 15

**AN: So a little change in point of view.**

There was a sudden flurry of activity in the wing where the Princes' and their wives resided in the palace. Dastan had been in his room, laying low from his brother and Shraga. Tus earlier in the day had come into the room showing his appreciation for having his brother home. While Dastan was ecstatic about the return of Garsiv, he wouldn't help but feel very uneasy about it. Maybe it was just her that made him uneasy. Not Iryanna, the girl seemed sweet enough. It was Shraga that made his gut twist. As they all stood in the throne room to receive Garsiv and his new wife, Dastan had witnessed the storm brewing behind Shraga's green eyes. So all he had done was give Tus a satisfied smile and agreed that they were all lucky to have Garsiv back.

He had been right to feel edgy. While he readied himself for sleep there had been a sudden screech and then the crashing of what sounded like the breaking of furniture from down the hall. By the time he pulled the door open to find where all the noise was coming from, there were servants crowding Garsiv's door with Tus in the middle of the crowd pushing himself through. The door to his brother's room stood open, which allowed the exit of more disturbing crashing sounds and more screaming. What was going on?

Tus made it in first and Dastan found himself trying to push himself through the crowd of servants as well. Once inside the room he found himself trying his best to take the scene of Shraga hip tossing Garsiv into a shelf covered with scrolls not to be hilarious. The problem was he did think it was funny. A sharp laugh erupted from not only him but as well as Tus. He was not alone in finding the hilarity of situation. After breaking a few shelves on the way down and scattering many scrolls on the floor, Garsiv sprang back to his feet.

Dastan could have sworn that Garsiv growled when he spoke, "Shraga if you dare attack me again I swear-"

"Swear what? That you will go out and find yourself yet another wife?"

So there it was. This actual fight was because of Iryanna. What else could it have been over? Well there was their marriage night when Shraga had attacked Garsiv. Dastan would be a liar if he didn't think that Shraga just had a skewed sense of foreplay. Another laugh erupted from his lips but a quick angered look from his older brother shut him up. There was such a heat behind Garsiv's brown eyes that it actually scared Dastan a bit. Tus must have seen it too for his laughter died off as well.

Yet now after her harsh inquiry in the presence of many Garsiv stood ramrod straight with a dark look on his face. Dastan could have sworn that if they put wood around Garsiv right now, it would catch fire because of the intensity of his anger.

"Leave," he demanded of the servants who complied to his wishes without any questions. Once the door was shut behind them he turned back to his wife. They regarded each other with infuriated stares. Neither seemed to want to back down from the other. He wasn't surprised that both were having this problem. Both husband and wife were bullheaded so it made sense that they both butted heads.

Dastan looked to Tus out of the corner of his eye. He felt like they shouldn't be witnessing this, and he also felt that Garsiv was being much harder on her due to their presence. He made to move hoping to leave but Garsiv raised a hand stopping his movement towards the door. Dastan sighed and stopped as suddenly as he had started.

"You are my wife and I expect you to obey," he stated in a tone devoid of emotion.

A redness spread over Shraga's face. At first one would think it was a blush. He had spent enough time in her company over the last year to know that redness was no blush. It crept up her neck to spread across her entire face. It was fury. He could tell, and he wondered if Garsiv could. One thing he could also tell was that Garsiv was using their presence to humiliate her. Both Tus and Dastan understood this now. By the looks of it too, Garsiv's plan was working.

"I have hurt you, and I apologized," stated Garsiv. "I am not expecting your forgiveness. Yet I do expect that the next time you want me to kiss you that you don't try to kill me afterwards."

Now the redness in her cheeks darkened. Shraga was blushing now. Tus and Dastan hadn't the slightest clue what had happened before they had entered the room, but by the looks of the splintered desk, the overturned lamp, and the now broken bookcase there had been one harsh fight between them. They all watched as she nervously pulled her lower lip between her teeth nervously. Dastan had spent a lot of time with her, and he had never seen her look this way. He wasn't sure how to describe how she looked but it was rather attractive of her. Dastan felt like laughing again. The thought of his sister-in-law looking cute when she did that was hilarious. She was a deadly skilled warrior. Cute wasn't a word he would ever use to describe Shraga.

Apparently it was one Garsiv would use because his face softened towards his wife. Yet when she spoke all of their jaws dropped and they were all left speechless.

"Yes well I didn't expect you to be captured by the enemy and then bring home another wife. I suppose my dear husband we don't always get what we expect."

Yes, that was the woman he knew. If Garsiv was going to use their presence to humiliate her into 'learning a lesson'. She was going to do the same to him. The problem was they all knew that Shraga wasn't going to back down and if it had to come back to violence she wouldn't hesitate act again.

"I think the two of you need to be alone," stated Tus.

"I disagree, I think they need time apart," mentioned Dastan.

There was a long moment of silence and then Garsiv decided for them all what was best.

"Goodnight Shraga," he said as he looked away from her. The next thing though that was said by Garsiv cut everyone in the room. "Before you go to bed, send Iryanna so I can say goodnight to her too."

Dastan was sure for that moment that he forgot how to breathe. He couldn't imagine how Shraga was feeling at that very moment.

"Garsiv," started Tus, but he didn't know what else to say so he just stopped talking. He too was speechless. They all watched intently as Shraga squared her shoulders and raised her chin. She crossed the distance between herself and Garsiv. She was slow and methodical in her movements. There was nothing demure or obedient by the look in her eye.

"As my husband wishes," she stated before raising her fisted right hand into the air. She was so quick, like a striking viper. She pulled back her fist and then slammed all her weight into swinging her fist straight for his face. Her knuckles connected with Garsiv's cheek and the skin split instantly. None of them had ever seen a woman hit that fast nor hard in their life. With the amount of blood that was gushing suddenly from the wound there was no questioning that he would need to be sewn.

She did not stay to see what needed to happen, nor to receive her husband's anger. After turning on her heel she stormed from the chamber leaving the three brothers alone. Garsiv ended up on the floor and once Shraga was gone Dastan didn't stop the laugh that came from him. He could not help it and in his opinion Garsiv deserved the punishment his wife befit of him.

"I swear if you don't stop laughing Dastan I will have her attack you too," threatened Garsiv as he held his cheek in hopes to stifle the bleeding. That didn't stop Dastan from laughing and it didn't stop Tus from starting in too.

"Dear brother, I would say you deserved that," Tus said once he caught his breath again.

"I already explained to her, I am not explaining myself again to either of you."

"I don't think we were looking for an explanation," Dastan said before the door opened to the chambers and Iryanna eased into the room with a look of fear on her face. Upon seeing the situation she rushed forward with nothing but concern and fear writ on her face. She pulled a scarf from around her waist that was used to cinch the dress she wore to her frame. As she knelt beside him on the floor and moved his hand from his cheek. She replaced his hand with her scarf so she could hold better pressure and soak up the blood.

They were like water and fire, Dastan thought as he found himself comparing Iryanna and Shraga.

"What happened?" she asked as she looked to Tus and Dastan for the truth. Dastan gave her credit, she knew if she asked Garsiv he would lie to her. It was Tus who answered that Shraga had hit him. She held Tus' gaze for a moment then gave him a small nod of thanks.

"Do not blame her Garsiv, I don't think you truly thought about how this marriage would affect her. Not only does she suddenly have her husband back, her husband brought her home a sister that she didn't want. She now has to share the man she hardly got to know before he left her for war. I am not blameless either I fear. I should have thought more about your proposal."

"Very wise of you my lady," Dastan said drawing her attention to him. She gave him a soft smile. He wasn't sure how he felt about this woman, but she did seem sweet. That and she obviously was smart enough to recognize the anger that came from Shraga was indeed warranted. The look on Garsiv's face though told all of them that he felt betrayed by them. He didn't voice it though. He just let her tend to his wound in silence, which ended up not needing to be sewn, and then he asked her to retire as well with an unfriendly goodnight.


	17. Chapter 16

**AN: So just to let you know, anything culture related in any this story is purely made up unless I specify. The custom in the chapter that I made up was just that, made up. I liked the scene though and it may be odd but I think it really worked so I am not going to change it. Also sorry it has been a long time. I am using life as an excuse for it. Also I am trying this thing where I am describing more about clothing. I don't know if any of these styles are relevant during this time period. I would also like it no one told me a difference, it is nice to just describe what I like and hope it is nice. Enjoy :)**

"Her father passed while you were gone," stated Dastan while they were taking their break from training. They sat on the edge of the sand arena while Tus and soldier took their place to train. Garsiv tried no to get upset by the way Dastan said that. For the last two weeks since he had been reunited with his home and family they had started to take this tone with him as if he hadn't been capture by the enemy. No, they made it out like he was out seeing the world ignoring his responsibilities to the people, his family, the army, and Shraga.

If any negativity was pointed at him, he was glad that no one was negative to Iryanna. From the spies he had among the servants he had learned that even Shraga treated Iryanna with kindness. Thinking of Shraga made him hurt, especially his heart and cheek. The wound she had left him was almost healed. When she struck him he had been so enraged that he couldn't even act. Now it didn't even bother him. Iryanna in the few times he had been alone with her, spoke wisdom into his mind about how he should not expect kindness from Shraga. Iryanna was also the one who told him to be patient with Shraga. His second wife with so gentle hearted and understanding that he almost felt guilty that he yearned so much for Shraga instead of her.

Now he was just learning that Shraga was dealing with more than she would ever share with him. Why hadn't anyone told him that her father had died until now? Why hadn't she told him? Maybe it was his own fault that she hadn't told him. He never gave her the chance to really talk about how she had faired while he was away. Damn, he was doing it too now. He had not been away on some sort of vacation, and he wasn't going to start punishing himself for not being here. He had been through terrible things while he was gone too.

It was not as if he did not sympathized for the loss of her father. He truly felt for her loss in his heart. His chest tightened, and he wished more than anything he had been right there when she found out so he could have comforted her. For a moment he wondered where he had been when she did find out about her father. No doubt that he was being dragged through the dessert behind the King's horse with his arms being yanked out of socket with rocks and sand scrapping harshly against his body and face from the ground.

Garsiv had been tortured, starved, and humiliated on a daily basis until he suddenly found the dagger and sword to ensure his escape. It was hard to admit, but he had almost been truly broken by then. Sometimes he didn't feel like the man he once had been, like there was a darkness in his heart that wouldn't go away. Or maybe that was the hole that was created when he wasn't sure how he would reconcile with Shraga. His chest tightened again. He had treated her wrongly. Iryanna was correct though, Shraga needed her space. There would be a time and place where he could talk to her more, but now wasn't the time and it hadn't been for the last two weeks.

"I didn't know that. Did she get to travel to the funeral?"

"No, the guards wouldn't let her since uncle advised against it before he took the rest of the troops to support the efforts in finding you. I pleaded with him to spare some men to escort her to her home village so she could be there, but he said during the time of war not a man could be spared. He also explained to me that while the passing of her father was tragic during the time in which you were being held captive that she needed to stay here in case you returned. Wifely duties as he called it."

The weight of guilt bore down on him more than it already was. Was he ruining Shraga's life? She hadn't even been permitted to go to her father's funeral for his sake. He closed his eyes and acted like he was trying to enjoy the cool wind that pressed against his sweaty skin. Really though he was trying to hide his thoughts from his younger brother's prying eyes. He wondered how she felt about such a thing. When he opened his eyes he spied Shraga and Iryanna standing in the gardens which were on the east side of the arena.

Both women were so attractive. They were smiling and laughing together. That must be a good sign. Iryanna turned and her eyes caught his. She suddenly stopped smiling when she saw him watching them. He wondered what they were talking about. She lifted her hand a bit and waved. She then turned back to Shraga who hadn't noticed his presence and started laughing again.

Dastan followed his line of sight.

"It is good that they seem to be getting along," he stated. Garsiv shrugged. He knew it was swell that they were getting along, but it made him slightly uneasy all of a sudden.

"I suppose so."

"That is until they join forces against you," laughed Dastan. Garsiv turned to look at his younger brother. Yes, he was younger, but with that comment Garsiv realized that was his exact fear. He felt as if he were losing Shraga. Could he bare to lose Iryanna too? His lips pressed into a thin line and he turned his eyes back to look at his wives, but they were gone. What if Iryanna started sympathizing too much for Shraga and turned on him too? He didn't think he could bare that as well as Shraga's wrath.

"Garsiv?" asked Dastan, drawing Garsiv's thoughts back to the moment.

"Sorry, I was just thinking."

"Not your best quality," stated Tus, joining them. Garsiv shot him a look but stayed silent. "By the look on your face brother I would say you are worried."

"What if they both start hating me?" finally he vocalized his fear.

"Don't you think that is selfish of you?" asked Tus. Dastan nodded, agreeing that he found the fear to be selfish of his brother. Garsiv sighed. It was selfish, but it still bothered him. He found himself wanting to ask his brothers so many questions but realized that they wouldn't offer him any advice that he didn't already know. He needed to give the ladies their space, and when they needed him, he would have to accommodate them.

He may have been the husband, but he suddenly realized he was a weak man. The women in his life were going to rule him. He didn't have the heart to treat them like he had tried to treat Shraga that one night. Yes he was the husband, and he wanted to be respected, but his father had never taught him to demand respect by forcing it. If he wanted his wives to respect him, he needed to respect them. He was in the wrong for demanding Shraga to act demure. He felt sick suddenly, and he needed to be alone. Without a word he was on his feet and left the arena.

Xxxxxxxxxx

She had been mostly left alone by Garsiv since she had been brought to his home. Since she had been left to her own devices, only the servants and Shraga were making sure that she was well taken care of. There would be no denying that she was lonely, but since the night of the fight between Shraga and Garsiv when he had sent her away with a cold goodnight she felt unwelcomed by him and his immediate family. They all kept their distance from her. It wasn't as if she had really expected a lot after he had told her that he was already wed. It was just, well she hadn't thought she would feel like this, alienated.

An emptiness hovered over her heart. She couldn't help it. Being in the palace and suddenly being a princess was so surreal that she had a hard time comprehending it. She accepted everything new to her with good grace, and open curiosity. Yet it hurt when the person who had every right to hate her was kind to her, and the people who were supposed to be kind to her overlooked her existence for the most part. If she saw Garsiv's mother or sisters they would speak to her with kindness, but they never sought her out to get to know her, though she didn't expect them to. Garsiv and his brothers had kept their complete distance from her and so she didn't interact with them at all except in the few moments she had gotten to be alone with Garsiv by seeking him out. During that time too all they had spoken about was Shraga. He never asked her opinion, but when he would ask how she was faring he would grow silent and look like he wasn't paying her any attention. So she would bring Shraga up, and only then would he listen. All she had was the servants and Shraga.

She had been scared at first after the fight between Garsiv and Shraga. She had really thought that Shraga was going to be terrible to her. It was the exact opposite. In fact, Shraga was the best one of them all to her. It was confusing, but Shraga made her loneliness subside sometimes. Iryanna couldn't help it though, within the two weeks she had started to resent Shraga's ability to be so friendly.

The first day when she had woken up, Shraga was the one who stood over her shaking her awake gently. It had scared her to no end. Garsiv has spoken highly about how strong of a woman that Shraga was. After the fight she knew that Shraga was still going to be seething, and she had expected to bare the brunt of that anger. That never happened. Shraga had apologized for the hour but she wanted Iryanna to wake to break their fast together, and then Shraga had called for a seamstress to come to take Iryanna's measurements.

The next day she had woken to Shraga waking her again to show her that some of her new wardrobe had arrived. It wasn't in her to complain either, Shraga woke her up at a reasonable hour when the sun was already into the sky. Shraga had worked easily to help dress Iryanna in the many dresses that had arrived. After trying on the third dress made of hand painted lapis lazuli blue silk that was made for the winter months that were trying to come Iryanna had asked if they were all dresses. Shraga had grown quiet before understanding that Iryanna was concerned about if she too would wear things similar to the green gossamer pantaloons that Shraga wore underneath a long golden silk tunic embroidered with green on the wide sleeves. Shraga asked her what she wanted to wear, and she hadn't thought she would be asked. She had told Shraga that she wouldn't mind some clothing like what she was wearing at the moment, to which Shraga promised to tell the seamstress.

Every day it was Shraga who woke her, and everyday there was something else that Shraga gifted onto her. The first few it was a new wardrobe, filled with many colorful clothing that she had never dreamed of wearing. Around the forth day Shraga bestowed many jewels on to Iryanna, stating that they would share such items. She gave Iryanna the choice to pick out her favorites. She had chosen several golden pieces that surrounded heavy colorful jewels that she had never seen before in her life. The fifth day they had traveled to the markets together to pick out scented shampoos, soaps, and oils.

The sixth day after Shraga found out that Iryanna had a hobby of painting and had taken her back to the market to procure various items to mix paints with canvas cloth that she could use as well. The second week hadn't been any less chaotic either. They were either in the market, or Shraga was teaching her the customs of her new life. It was very overwhelming that by the end of the second week she was exhausted with picking her favorites, trying on items, learning to dance, going to the market, learning history about the Kingdom, and the list went on.

One night before she had a chance begin readying herself for bed, Shraga had come to collect her to take her to the bathing pool in which the King's wives used. Iryanna had wanted to refuse, because she got the distinct feeling that Azada and her twin daughters weren't fond of her. Yet Shraga was already taking her hand and leading the way. Once there the found the pool that the twins inhabited and Shraga turned to start stripping Iryanna. Shraga's slender fingers found the knot of the belted scarf around Iryanna's waist and she began to tug gently at the fabric.

Iryanna reached out, grasping both of Shraga's wrists, terror building in her body. She knew the bathing habits of Persian women, but she didn't think she would ever have to be apart of them. She had been bathed before by women in her family, or by servants, but never her sister through marriage. This was the moment she began to resent Shraga's ability to treat her with kindness. Shraga just laughed good naturedly. She explained that this was something that needed to be done otherwise they wouldn't appear to be sisters, no matter how nice they were to each other. Helping each other in such an intimate way proved that their bond was just as thick as blood. Iryanna realized it was the truth among these people. She spotted the Queen in a different pool in the giant chamber with several other of the King's wives bathing each other. Shraga said she didn't like it at first, and even promised that they wouldn't have to do it often, only once a week. Even the twins were bathing each other as if to confirm that is was natural.

She let go of Shraga's wrists. Shraga then explained that today Iryanna would be the one to be bathed first to show that Shraga had accepted her. Every other time, Shraga was always to be bathed first which was custom. Iryanna nodded, and allowed Shraga to remove all of her clothes. Shraga then helped Iryanna remove Shraga's clothes, and before entering the warm pool together, Iryanna caught herself marveling at the sleek muscles of Shraga's body moving beneath her tanned skin. In comparison, Iryanna knew she looked like a slip of a girl with no strength. Shraga's body was fullers than hers in a curved yet athletic way. She had to force herself to look away.

Being bathed wasn't all that terrible. Shraga was gentle and didn't touch the places that would have made Iryanna blush. She just passed her the lye soap to do so herself. Shraga massaged her back gently with soapy hands and Iryanna wanted to cry. It felt spectacular the way she gently dug her thumbs into the place under her shoulder blades and up her spine to the back of her neck. Her muscles were sore so it was like being in heaven, but it conflicted her that Shraga was able to do such a thing to a woman that she had the right to hate. Even when Shraga washed her golden hair for her, she had massaged the scalp as well. Her face was wet so she knew that no one would see the tear slip down her cheek. When it was her turn to bath Shraga she made sure to do so gently and just as thoroughly.

And now they moved through the gardens together. It was the first day in which they really spent time relaxing. Shraga was showing her around the palace and this had been their last stop for the day. As she was listening to Sharga tell a story about while Garsiv had been captured, Dastan had tried to take her mind off of his safety by attacking her in the gardens to spar. Iryanna had giggled, and when she turned her head slightly she caught Garsiv staring at them both darkly. At first she thought about telling Shraga, but then she knew that it wouldn't matter. Shraga and Garsiv weren't on speaking terms yet since they fight and Shraga wouldn't acknowledge him. She waved and then turned back to Shraga, following her deeper into the gardens.

xxxxxx

The viper curled itself around her bare leg, seeking warmth and flicking its tongue against her knee. She didn't even glance down at the creature as she tried to remove the kohl that lined her eyes with a damp cloth. She was sitting in front of her polished looking glass. She abhorred the makeup, but Iryanna had gifted it onto her and even had wanted to do the lining herself this morning before they had toured the palace. Iryanna was a skilled artist in her own right and had been delicate when applying the kohl. Yet Shraga had been displeased about how dark the product was, causing her green eyes to look dusky in a way she didn't approve. When she tried to tell Iryanna she liked it, the girl had just laughed sweetly, calling her on the lie. Even Iryanna thought it looked too dark for her. Shraga had worn it though because it had meant something to Iryanna for her to do so.

It was nightfall now and she could take it off to never wear it again. She rubbed vigorously at her closed eyes that she didn't see him enter through the mirror, but she did hear him. She had removed all of the kohl, but when she was done her eyes were red with irritation. As she turned to look at him over her shoulder she wiggled her ankle to convey the message that viper needed to hide. It slithered off her leg and disappeared into the shadows. She was lucky that he couldn't stop looking at her eyes so he didn't see the snake.

"Have you been crying?" he asked. There was a moment where she wanted to say that she had. Something told her that he wouldn't believe her. She wouldn't believe it either if she were him. She just shook her head no, then stood up to turn to look at him. Silence enveloped them and she waited for him to tell her why he was there in her room.

When it became painfully quiet she realized it was because he was looking at her body. She wore only a thin black silk robe. While it wasn't see through like some of her other robes, this clung to her the most, exaggerating her shape. It was also short, showing off her lower thighs and down. The way he was looking at her now was how she wanted to look at him earlier when he was in the sparring arena. She had pretended not to see him, but she had. He had his shirt off at the time, with sweat clinging to his skin. His muscles had bunched beneath his skin as he moved, causing the sheen of sweat to glint in the sunlight as he moved. He had developed more sinew since he had been gone. She wanted to admire her husband but when she almost turned to stare Iryanna's inquisitive voice reminded her that she was still angry with him.

"Do you need something?" she finally asked, hoping to get him to leave as quickly as she could without starting a fight.

"I just wanted to check on you since we haven't spoken in a while."

"I am doing well," she stated. She knew she should ask him how he was doing since he was now home. She knew she should still be expressing gratitude that he was alive and returned to her by the grace of the Gods. She couldn't force herself to express that gratitude when she was livid with the fact that he had asked another woman to be his wife. She was starting to think that she may never be able to ever truly forgive him. She wanted to, but she couldn't find herself doing so easily.

"Why did you attack me that night after you were the one who asked me to kiss you?" he asked suddenly forgetting the lack of manners she was showing him. She narrowed her eyes at him, considering her options. It would be too easy to tell him a lie, to watch him hurt as much as she was hurting.

"Because I desired you, and it felt the same as when I desired Zolm. That scared me so I attacked and then all my anger just poured out of me about the entire situation and so I kept fighting."

She decided on the truth. He took the truth a lot better than she thought that he would. He merely nodded with a lengthy sigh. He wouldn't say anything, he didn't really have the right after marrying another before he had even consummated his marriage to her first. She had realized it a week ago that if he had loved her as much as she had thought that he had when they had shared the connection through the necklace that he wouldn't have married another.

"I want you to desire me, and that not to bother you," he whispered as he looked down at the ground. Her brows drew together and she wasn't sure why he was being honest like that with her. It felt nice thought to know that he wanted her to not be confused by her feelings for him.

"I actually came here to tell you to keep away from Iryanna. I know you have lost your trust in me and I was becoming afraid that it would transfer over to Iryanna. I thought if I lost you then I couldn't handle losing her too."

As he spoke he took a seat on the couch, sitting forward with his elbows on his knees. After he finished speaking he ran his hands through his hair nervously.

"I realized that I am being selfish for thinking in such a way. But ultimately I am even more selfish than that. I don't want to lose you period. I married Iryanna because I pitied her, and yes, I desired her too, but mostly I pitied her. Hate me for this if you want Shraga, but I will not let you turn away from me forever. I will give you as much space as I can, but eventually things will have to change. You are going to have to let me be your husband again because I missed you so much while I was gone, and the entire time I have been home it has been driving me mad knowing you are so close, but are farther from me than you were when you still lived with your family. And also, Shraga, I didn't know about your father. We will leave tonight if you want so you can go visit your family. I know it is late, but I never would have wanted you to miss his funeral."

His speech was long winded, selfish, a bit pushy, but oddly enough, it was sweet. She felt conflicted for a few moments. The hassansin in her won over though. Duty came first. Her duty was to her husband so ultimately decided to give him the comfort he needed. She still didn't know everything he had been through, and they were never going to make progress if she couldn't start trying to forgive him. He made a mistake, just like she had. It didn't matter if they were going to be forever living with his mistake, and not hers, it was still a mistake, and Iryanna wasn't a bad person. Shraga would eventually grow to care for her, she knew that she could.

"My place is here, and I don't think I can handle seeing my mother, knowing that I would have to leave her behind. Your offer is very kind though and I can't thank you enough for showing me that compassion."

As she spoke she moved forward so she could stand in front of him. He had his head in his hands so he hadn't noticed that she had moved and when he looked back up at her, he had startled. She just gave him a forced smile, trying to convey to him that she wasn't going to attack him. He relaxed. Part of her wanted to thrive about him being afraid of her. It was delusional thought. He wasn't really afraid of her, he just didn't want to fight her any longer. And he wanted her. That finally sunk in and she suddenly felt warm even though tonight was a particularly cold evening. Her husband could be anywhere he wanted to be, but he chose to be here with her.

"Have you eaten tonight?" she asked. He shook his head that he hadn't, and then she asked him if he would dine with her tonight, just the two of them in her chambers. A smile tugged at his lips and he nodded. She was trying to be sensible and maybe eating dinner would distract them enough while creating a place so they could have conversation. It would be a friendly environment she hoped.

She called a servant to deliver them some food. The woman nodded and left the room. When she turned back to Garsiv again the way he was staring at her reminded her that she needed to put clothing on. She excused herself into the closet space that housed her now many clothes. She twisted her long hair up and pinned it to her head in a loose bun, then she chose a Kurdish gown made of alizarin crimson habutai (like a Chinese silk but heavier) sewn with amber thread. She slipped on some matching amber slippers and an amber belt embroidered with crimson roses. She had thought about wearing one of her newer gowns made of the traditional gossamer that his own mother would have worn, but she didn't want to be seen through the near translucent fabric.

When she returned, the food had been served at the table near the balcony doors. Garsiv already sat at the table, pouring wine for the both of them. He looked surprised that she had dressed so quickly by herself but then a look passed over his face. It was as if he remembered that she wasn't born into a life where others took care of her. She could take care of herself. She didn't even need him. He pressed his lips into a thin line. He wanted her to need him. In ways she did. She just wasn't sure about what ways those were anymore.

Taking a seat she picked up the glass of wine he had poured for her and took a long sip. Without realizing it she drained the entire contents of the glass. A heat lifted to her cheeks and she was embarrassed for looking as if she relied on the wine for courage. Yet the alcohol burned minutes later through her veins and she felt a calm center her. The next glass she poured for herself was just of water.

"Why do you think that the King of Scythia became so sloppy?" she asked. He looked to her confused. "I know you probably don't wish to talk about it, but it is just curious that he spent so much time trying to break you that he would suddenly make the mistake of leaving weapons within your grasp."

"I have thought about it more than I wish to. I can only assume that he thought that I had been broken by the beatings and other various things he had done to me." As he spoke she cut herself a piece of fish that had been for them to share. She sank her fork into the delicate meat and then ate it. Halfway through chewing she realized it must look like she was uncaring to his story. She swallowed carefully and then waited for him to continue. When he didn't continue she couldn't ignore the pained look on his face.

"What did they do to you?" she asked. But of course she of all people would ask. No one had asked him since he had been home. Not his brothers, his fathers, his mother, not even Iryanna had wanted to know and she had been there, though she had been hidden from it. She knew it was pushing him to ask such things but she was curious. Something in her needed to know what had happened to him so she could try to better understand the new man who sat in front of her.

"It isn't really dinner conversation."

"Then what else should we talk about? Our future? Iryanna's future? How your father is building a perfect empire? How your sisters flirt with the two guards who stand post at the nursery? These are things we could talk about any time. I want to know what happened to you. If you can't talk about it that is fine, but just say so."

Her words were forceful but she didn't think she needed to coddle him. Terrible things had happened to him, but he needed to make those things mean something to build him into a man, not use it to break him down into a coward. She pursed her lips and waited patiently.

"The beatings weren't really the worst thing. I have been fighting all my life, and I can thank my father for never allowing his guards to take it easy on us when we were training. I was meant to be a soldier and my father would have done a disservice to me if he would have allowed them to take it easy on me. So when they beat me, it wasn't the worst thing that they could have done. Nothing that they did would have killed me either so that helped. It is when they would starve me that I was at my worst. Going to sleep hungry at night was what started to break me. I only ate when I was obedient enough to do so. Quickly you learn to become obedient to ensure your survival. Looking back they wouldn't have allowed me to die but when you are hungry you lose your ability to concentrate.

"The other thing that began to break me was the miles he would drag me behind his horse. The walking was never a bother. Yet he would jerk the rope leading me, causing me to fall and pull me all day until I lost consciousness and my arms were pulled out of socket. Then when we would stop for camp his men would pop my arms back in place and then I would have to serve the king despite the pain I was in."

She listened without showing any emotions to how she felt about what he was telling her. Once he stopped talking she knew he was finished talking about it in general. He had told her enough though to satisfy her curiosity. She pushed the plate towards with the fish on it and told him to eat. He did so quietly. She nibbled on some of the fruit that had been on the table before she was satisfied. After she finished eating she watched him sate himself too. He ate with manners, but she could tell that he still looked as if this may be his last meal.

"Your left shoulder didn't heal correctly the last time they popped your arm back into its joint."

He was wiping his mouth, ridding the sauce that clung to the corner of his mouth when she spoke. He tried to hide his surprise that she had noticed. Today when he was in the arena with Dastan she had observed him favoring his left shoulder. So had Dastan, and immediately his brother had taken it easier on him. He nodded that it was true.

"Have you told the healer?" she asked.

"Yeah, he comes daily to rub herbs on it to take the swelling down and tells me to keep fighting to regain strength."

"You are right handed, but maybe you should try to fight left handed for a while to ensure that you are exercising it enough." He considered her words and nodded that it was a good idea. Shraga in his memory of her always had good ideas. She really hadn't changed either. She watched as he looked like he knew her worth to him but he wasn't sure how to express it to her. Out of the corner of her eye she caught the movement of one of her vipers slithering closer to the lit fire for warmth. She didn't move her head but when she focused back on him she knew he could see that she was distracted.

She had forgotten about their presence and realized that she had to stay even headed here. If things between them were to suddenly escalate, her vipers would sense her frustration and would act according to their nature against their master's enemy. Things were going well so far, but who knew if things would get out of hand. Usually around the two of them, things got out of hand.

"I am glad that I was able to find the sword you gave me before I made my escape," he said. "It had meant a lot to me and had kept me alive until I was taken, and then it kept me alive one my way back home."

"I am just glad you are home and alive," she stated. He stayed quiet which she was thankful for. There had been a moment where she thought he would say something sappy. Such as something along the lines of 'the thought of you kept me going'. It would have only fueled her anger that in the chambers next to hers slept his other wife.

"This has been a pleasant evening," he said as he stood. He was going to leave because she couldn't stop the dark look from her face when she had thought about Iryanna. He was being smart, he was going to flee before things turned ugly between them. She stood as well and noticed that he hadn't gotten the sauce in the corner of his mouth. Before he could say goodnight she snatched a napkin from the table and stepped forward so she could clean his face. He let her do so.

She invaded his space and reached up with the napkin in her hand. Once the sauce was gone she went to move away from him. He stopped her though by sliding an arm around her waist. She couldn't stop herself from stiffening but she didn't push him away. In this room it was just him and her, she told herself. Just him and her, and he was her husband. He had lived, he had returned, and he was hers. She dropped the napkin and cupped the side of his face as his forehead came to rest against hers.

Her heart was hammering in her chest and she was thankful that he hadn't pulled her close enough to feel it. She was positive that he could feel her sudden rapid breathing on his face though. Her hand smoothed up his face, grazing over his ear, and lacing her fingers into his hair. His hair was soft against her finger tips. She clutched his hair gently, her nails grazing the back of his scalp. He shuddered in her grasp and it excited her all the more. She felt herself giving in to the want she had for him. When the desire pooled in her stomach she didn't reject the feeling. This was okay for her to feel towards him. He wasn't Zolm, he was Garsiv and he was her husband.

His other arm snaked around her shoulders, pulling her closer to him. His head was dipping down and she felt a rush of emotions with the anticipation of him trying to kiss her on his own terms. His breath was hot on her skin, causing her to flush even more. Despite eating fish, his breath only smelled of the red wine that he had been drinking. His lips pressed to hers and she sighed. She angled her head so that his mouth could slant over hers. Before she knew it his mouth was pressing harder against hers. He was pouring all his pent up desire into the kiss. She threaded her fingers into his hands tighter than they were before.

Before, the first time they had kissed, her husband had teased the seam of her lips, asking for her silent permission to open to him. Now he didn't silently ask her permission. He just claimed her as his. The moment he slanted his mouth over hers again it forced her mouth to open. Immediately his tongue plunged into her mouth as if it would be the last time he was ever allowed to taste her. She didn't waste time before she reciprocated his actions. Her own tongue slid against the length of his and he groaned almost in pain into her mouth. The vibrations rippled through her and with her free hand she made a first with the fabric on the front of his shirt. She hadn't even noticed her hand had found its way to his chest. Her nails dug into the muscled flesh beneath his shirt as she kept making the fist.

Everything halted though when they were interrupted by the door opening. Slowly they broke the kiss and he was the first to see who was now standing in the room. When he started to detach himself from her while clearing his throat she knew who it was. She forced herself to calm down for many different reasons, her vipers being a main reason, and when she turned to look at their company she wore a passive expression.

Iryanna stood there with her mouth open and her pretty blue eyes swimming with emotions. Her mouth worked a few times but she couldn't seem to find her voice. Shraga noticed that Iryanna was holding a framed canvas. It was small, but Shraga realized that she had painted her something. Shraga found the strength to look past the jealousy that she spied in the younger woman's eyes to move forward, away from Garsiv who just stood their almost stupidly. Shraga had accustomed herself into thinking that Iryanna was a girl. The jealousy in her eyes though was a woman's jealousy.

"What do you have there?" asked Shraga, reminding the woman that she had come here for a purpose. It extinguished the hurt look on Iryanna's face and the woman forced a smile as she held the canvas up so that Shraga could see.

"I know it isn't much, but I painted you a picture," she said.

Shraga looked over the painting and it was beautiful. Iryanna was an artist. A smile broke onto her face and she couldn't hide the appreciation. She had painted the scene in which Shraga had told her about when Dastan had attacked her in the gardens. In the picture the two figures seemed to look like they were dancing with swords. The gown that Iryanna had painted her in was a rich green pigment that swirled around her legs.

"I thought this would be better than the black kohl I gave you earlier," she whispered. Shraga laughed and took the painting. Immediately she found a place for it and placed it on a barren table near her bed. She propped it up on the wall and knew she would have to find a better place for it but for now this would do.

"It is wonderful Iryanna, I cannot thank you enough."

"You painted that?" asked Garsiv.

Iryanna suddenly so shy, seeming like a girl again.

"She is quite the artist," said Shraga. "Maybe for your next painting you could do something for Garsiv so he can see how talented you are." She knew it was dumb for her to suggest such a thing but if this were to work she was going to have to stay strong and accept this situation.

"I would like that," he whispered at he turned to look at Iryanna who blushed under his gaze. She nodded though and agreed that she would paint him something next. Before she could flee though Shraga stopped her by walking up to her and placing her arms around the her sister's shoulders. Iryanna to her credit didn't stiffen at the contact like Shraga would have.

"Thank you again," Shraga whispered as she gave the woman a tight squeeze of appreciation. Iryanna squeezed back. They stepped away from each other and Iryanna bowed her head and said she would leave them alone again. This time Garsiv stopped her. Iryanna flushed when he waved her closer to him. She obeyed though, looked uncomfortable when he drew her into a light hug. He whispered goodnight to her and she said it back. He then brushed a kiss across her temple and let her go. Iryanna bowed again and scrambled from the room.

When they were alone again though Shraga couldn't hide the fact that she was again uncomfortable in his presence. It was as if they were going to take one step forward and then three steps back every time.


	18. Chapter 17

The days were growing longer, and the nights were beginning to chill everyone to their bones. The candles flickered as a gust of wind blew through the already cold temple. Iryanna couldn't stop herself from huddling closer to Shraga. She was grateful that the other woman pretended not to notice her weakness for the cold. Iryanna was simply astounded by how strong Shraga was to the elements. It would seem the hot days didn't affect her, nor did the cold nights. Where Iryanna was from, the weather was just pleasant. Here, it seemed to have a mind of its own.

For a moment she let her eyes slide to the side to see if Shraga was praying. She wasn't. Iryanna had gathered from the month she had lived there that Shraga wasn't the religious sort. So she wondered why every day at the end of the week they found themselves here in the company of the other wives who bowed their heads to the floor.

The woman was an enigma that Iryanna constantly kept trying to figure out. All the while trying to figure Shraga out, she had come to idealize her as well. The will power that she wielded was impressive, even the Queen seemed to recognize Shraga's ability for strength. However while she idealized her, she couldn't stop from envying her as well. Since she had found Garsiv and Shraga kissing, they seemed to be growing close again. At first she thought it sweet until the cold realization set in. Iryanna was the one left out.

They included her, so that wasn't the issue. They ate dinner together, went on walks together, etc… The problem was Iryanna was most definitely the third wheel. Silent at dinner while Garsiv and Shraga debated philosophical standpoints, war strategy, or even mundane everyday things. When they took walks together, Iryanna trailed behind them silently, never excluded, but never truly invited. She couldn't help it, she was beginning to become lonely.

The moments she was beginning to live for were when they parted ways for bed. She would downcast her gaze as Garsiv would gather Shraga into his embrace, his mouth claiming hers in a way that Iryanna couldn't deny his love for the other woman. It hurt to watch so she wouldn't. Then when Garsiv was forced to drag himself away from Shraga, he would take her into his arms and place a sweet kiss on her own forehead. She would cling to him desperately, taking in his male musky scent so she could think fondly of him while she went to bed.

Garsiv hadn't even officially consummated their love yet, and so she was forced to admit that she was no true wife, not like Shraga. And the way he only kissed her brow was evidence that he too didn't see her as a wife yet. She wasn't sure what she needed to do to get him to notice her more, and she didn't know what to do to get him to validate their marriage.

These were all reasons she couldn't help herself from envying Shraga. Shraga had Garsiv, and while she was married to him too, she had no one.

Suddenly her attention was drawn to a tugging of her sleeve. She startled a bit, but didn't make a noise. It was forbidden to speak during prayer. She looked up and watched Shraga motion for her to rise and follow. So she did as she was bid and the two of them silently made their way out of the temple. Once outside the fresh air made them both breathe in deeply, ridding their lungs of the incense perfumed air that had been inside.

"Why did we leave?" asked Iryanna.

Shraga but pointed down the cobbled street ahead of them. She turned to see Nizam hurrying away from the temple, sticking close to the shadows that the buildings cast on the street. Iryanna wouldn't admit it, but she was most confused as to why they had left because of Nizam. She hadn't paid the older man much thought since she had arrived. He was always cordial when she passed but she had never actually sought him out to speak to him. All she really knew about him was how fond Garsiv and his brothers were of their uncle.

"Nizam never leaves prayer early, and he snuck out," stated Shraga.

Why was this of any importance to them? When Shraga started to walk forward Iryanna caught her wrist to stop her.

"It isn't our business about why he left, and I don't feel right about following."

Already her heart was pounding against her rib cage. In the dark recesses of her mind she remembered almost being abused physically when she had been captured before Garsiv had saved her. She didn't want to be punished for spying on her husband's uncle. The fear she had felt then of what would have happened to her if it hadn't been for Garsiv struck her again now. She may now be a princess, but that didn't mean she couldn't be punished. She didn't want to give reason for anyone to harm her, or be angry with her.

The look Shraga gave her scared her more though, when she looked over her shoulder, there was such a fire in her green eyes. She removed her hand and shrank into herself. Suddenly the hard look on Shraga's face softened and she apologized.

"It isn't our business, but I have noticed he sneaks around a lot lately. I want to know why. If you are scared you can stay. I promise we won't be caught though."

Shraga reached her hand out and waited patiently for Iryanna to make up her mind. It took a moment but finally Iryanna linked her hand with Shraga's, lacing her fingers with hers.

* * *

Hand in hand Shraga led them after Nazim. She was glad Iryanna crowded close to her. If Nazim turned and spied them, he would just assume that they had left temple early to shop, for they were headed in the direction of the market. There were a few other wives and concubines on the street with them, so it didn't look suspicious.

She could feel Iryanna's trembling and she could feel the woman's pulse beating rapidly just by hold her hand. It was moments like this where Shraga was forced to admit that Iryanna seemed much younger than she was. Everything either seemed to frighten her, or embarrass her. It was nearly constantly that her pretty cheeks were flushed red and she was looking away trying her hardest to be demure.

It didn't rightly help that things between her and Garsiv was… progressing. There hadn't been a fight between them in what seemed like a while. They were spending much more time together, even with Iryanna, and each night he made it a point to take her lips with as much abandon as he could. Through his kisses, he told her things he couldn't seem to say with words. He kissed her like a husband trying to find salvation in his wife, an insane man trying to find his sanity. She allowed it, though at first it made her feel very uncomfortable. That was until she realized that he was finally coming to terms that he had been gone, and he had only missed her. It was only her that made him truly happy.

Something about this epiphany settled her into allowing his fierce kisses before they parted ways to sleep. The only problem was when they parted she couldn't stop the insistent throbbing between her legs. She was no longer ill-informed on why her body felt this way. The very thing that made her a woman wanted to be filled with him. There had been once that she had been in so much need that she wanted to make her way to his room during the night. She didn't however because Iryanna had fallen asleep on the couch using Shraga's lap as her personal pillow.

Her attention turned back to Nazim as he made a sharp turn between two buildings. Iryanna shivered again. It was the complete opposite from what she herself felt. While Iryanna let fear rule her emotions, she let excitement rule hers. She wasn't entirely in her element as she spied on her uncle by marriage, but she felt like she was herself.

"No need to be scared," she whispered reassuringly after giving Iryanna's hand a small squeeze. Except there was every reason to be afraid. They turned down the same path as Nazim, between the clay brick buildings. He was heading towards the poorer district within the city. This wasn't the reason that they should have feared. He was the reason they should have feared. Not Nazim, no. Someone elese.

Nazim trekked forward, kicking up dust from his sandals from how quickly he walked. His black robes billowed out behind him. Any faster, the man would be running. Where was he going? And more importantly; why the hurry? It occurred to her then she should have paid better attention to the older man. She had always thought his eyes shifted too much for a man who didn't have many secrets.

They watched as Nazim turned down another path, narrower than the one they followed him on. As they made to follow at a respectable distance she stopped suddenly in her tracks, yanking Iryanna back and into the shadows of an overhang. Nazim had stopped and he was stopped talking to a man dressed in Hassansin clothing. Shraga's heart started to beat wildly as her eyes found their way to the cold blue one's that belonged to the only man she considered her enemy. Zolm smiled with just his eyes, signaling he saw her even though Nazim had not.

Without trying to figure out what Nazim could possibly want with the new leader of the Hassansins, which was obvious enough not to question, she spun and started back to the palace. She never noticed how tight her grip on Iryanna was until they both were far away from Zolm. Once she had dragged Iryanna into the markets, she let go of the woman's hand.

"Sorry," she whispered, starting down at how red Iryann's skin was.

"Who was that man? He looked at you like he knew you."

Iryanna may be young and innocent, but she was perceptive. That was a trait that Shraga had to give her credit for. The problem was that Shraga was caught off guard by the question. Without thinking too hard about the answer she blurted out the first terrible thing that came to her mind. "He is my cousin."

"Then why didn't you say hello!"

Iryanna's wonderful face lit up with the prospect of meeting more kin. Shraga just shook her head and started to walk towards the palace. Iryanna was right on her heels. As she walked she took the time to formulate the lie she would tell to Iryanna to hush her curiosity. Yet her mind was hazy just by seeing him. It seemed another lifetime ago that he had her shoved against the marble wall kissing her soundlessly before she smashed an oil lamp into the side of his face.

"We do not like each other, and if you see him anywhere in the palace ignore him."

She halted instantly and her heart hammered in her chest as she turned to stare hard at her sister. The gravity seemed to just hit her. What if Iryanna told Garsiv about Zolm? Immediately she schooled her features into something she hoped looked neutral.

"Iryanna, do not say anything to Garsiv about my cousin and Nazim."

She watched as Iryanna went to question her. Shraga made a tight fist at her side as the tension between them was becoming hostile. Iryanna was hushed instantly by the severe look and she couldn't be more thankful. Instantly she felt a calm settle of her. She didn't know why she trusted Iryanna so much but she did. Maybe it had a lot to do with the fact that she knew Iryanna idealized her.

**AN: Okay so this is short and I know leaves off at an awkward area but I had to write it sort of quickly (which may also be reasons for mistakes) to introduce the next chapter that I have been working on like crazy. Honestly I kept reading the other chapter and it wouldn't make sense without this, or it would but it wouldn't be as good in my opinion. So it may be a bit until the next chapter is out and I am not sure if I am going to post it as one long chapter or break it up a bit. However I sort of feel like the planets are aligning themselves for this story... If I am not making any sense just know I am a sleep deprived nursing student now that cared more about getting this out than spending my first day of no class in weeks napping. It is officially nap time now though. Hopefully I will return soon!**


	19. Chapter 18

**I am torturing myself by writing this. I just want you guys to know this does some of the same things to me as it does to you. I have decided to break up the next bit into shorter chapters to make it easier to edit and post. But by edit I mean I don't have time to read this over and over again, so let me know where the mistakes are at and I will fix them. Sorry I am lazy when it comes to making edits. And for everyone that was sure I had abandoned this story, I promise I haven't. I wish I could write all the time, but unfortunately I can't. School takes up 99% of the time I have and sleep is the other 1%. But since I am currently failing my class I decided I needed to do something I enjoyed to let off some steam. Please enjoy.**

**Chapter 18: **

Her heart was still hammering against the wall of her chest. Usually her heart beat was steady, controlled. Now it felt like the organ was trying to crawl out of her chest, up her throat, only to escape through her mouth. Hours later and she still felt like lightning had ripped through her when she made eye contact with Zolm. What made it worse was Iryanna had been standing next to her when it had happened. Carefully she had to contemplate the feeling she had experienced. It took hours to understand that she would probably never fully know what she had felt that ripped through her. There had been too many things happening at one time for her mind to process such a complex emotion.

The worst problem had been her taking Iryanna to begin with, that is something she could deduce now. She had all but forced Iryanna from her so she could be alone after the incident. The girl had tried to ask too many questions regarding her "cousin", and the intrusion wasn't welcome. Shraga had tried to avoid the questions by deflection, but Iryanna's seemingly innocent curiosity was hard to sate despite the warning gazes she had given the girl to shut it. It had occurred to Shraga on several occasions that the girl had a lot of growing up to do. Most people when met with such an icy glare, would have sealed their lips shut, and forgot the question. Iryanna would stay silent for a moment, and then ask anyways. Was this Shraga's fault for befriending her? Did it give her some unseen power to disrespect social protocol? Shraga sighed.

Naturally Shraga understood. Shraga never spoke about her personal life before marrying Garsiv. So she couldn't blame Iryanna for trying to seize the chance to learn more about her sister by marriage. Yet the deeper the girl pried, the harder it was just give Iryanna short, insufficient answers, especially after she had told the girl not to mention it to Garsiv. It was like the girl couldn't understand why Shraga wouldn't want her family to associate together. Shraga had to then come up with the only answer that was partially the truth, stating that Garsiv as well was not fond of her "cousin". No matter though, Iryanna wanted to know why no one like Zolm. So eventually Shraga feigned a headache so she could get the girl to leave her side.

Yet when they had made it back to the palace she did have a headache. The pain had started just as a dull ache behind her eyes, and now had spread across her entire cranium, and down her neck and into her shoulders. The pain was no longer dull either, it was sharp, and piercing. The pain seemingly pulsating with her rapid heartbeat creating an unbearable pressure. Before making it to her chambers, she found herself seeking out a healer for a pain drought.

She didn't like asking for such things. She always felt dull minded for a few days after taking them but her head starting to hurt so much that it was hard to keep her eyes open. That was because the world started to seem like it was tipped and spinning. The light stung and made her nerves fray. There was no way for her to just fight through the pain. In all her life, she had never had a headache so severe. It would have worried her under any other circumstance. She had wasted no time drinking the drought, and then making it to her rooms. She knew that in no time the drought would slow her heart rate and cause her to become heavy with fatigue.

Her hand covered her chest and she could feel her heart and she could feel it pound against the cavity of her chest. The beat was erratic and caused her to start to fear. She was in such control of her body, the fact of this was clear from the way she took care of herself. It was strange that now she felt like she didn't have any control. She tried to find her center, to pull herself back to a place where she would find peace from her hearts insistent beat.

There was no way to control such a thing when she was worried about what she had felt when she saw Zolm. That was mainly because at seeing Zolm she was reminded of the bitter memories she so desperately had tried to bury. Worst of all she didn't understand why seeing his scarred face caused her to feel guilty. Of all the things she should have felt that way over it was disturbing that she felt it for disfiguring his once handsome face. And he had been handsome, someone that many women would have fawned over if he didn't live in seclusion from society due to his heritage. Her fate would have been the same if she hadn't been promised to Garsiv at a young age. That wasn't the point though. She had done that to his face. She had disfigured him and all for what? A kiss?

It was surprising that this was just hitting her now. She had seen him since she had scarred him. Why hadn't it bothered her then? Garsiv had to be the answer to that. All the other times she had been so consumed with thoughts of wondering if her husband were alive, that she couldn't be bothered to think of what she had really done to Zolm. And now that her husband was safe, and back where he belonged, by her side, she could really open her eyes and just see. She had disfigured the closest person to a childhood friend that she could claim, and all for a kiss.

She grit her teeth suddenly. The more insight she had though the more she had to admit feeling guilty was ridiculous. So she rid herself of any guilt she thought she was feeling. It had not just been a kiss! No! It had been a promise that he was going to take what belonged to another man, and that was what she had chosen to give only Garsiv. So she had made the choice in the matter, and she had chosen to stop him. She stopped Zolm because she chose Garsiv.

Despite the way she had been raised in being a fiercely loyal wife to whomever she married, she still was not property to be taken, bartered with, and distributed to the highest bidder. She had chosen to marry Garsiv despite all appearances that she had been forced into it by her father. Yes, she had tried to make herself look like a heathen to get out of the marriage. Yet when she was taken to the palace, she could have very well left any time she had wanted. After careful thought and researching her husband's character, she wanted to know him. Marriage was the only way that was going to work, so she allowed it. If she hadn't wanted to share her life with him she wouldn't have. And Zolm had tried to take her choice away from her.

It became very clear then as to what she had felt when she had made eye contact with Zolm's icy blue eyes. She had felt hate. And it was for the first time in her life. There had been many times she thought she hated someone, but she had been a fool for thinking that is what hatred felt like. She hated Zolm. And that was because he tried to steal from not only her, but the man she was going to spend the rest of her life with. She took the blame for responding to him at first, but the weight of what Zolm had really meant to do bore down on her. He could have been the first man to touch her, when the only man who should touch her was someone she wanted to do such a thing. She wanted Garsiv to be the only man to touch her.

Tears pricked the corners of her eyes as a sigh escaped her lips. She hadn't noticed by thinking of her husband finally doing the things that her body craved that she started to line her collar bone with her fingertips. The skin on skin contact caused her to feel flushed and gooseflesh to raise on her arms. There would be a day soon, she hoped, where she would move on from her anger towards her husband enough to allow him to do the things she was beginning to feel like she desperately needed him to do.

She let her hand drop from her chest to her side and she opened her eyes, which she had come to realize had been closed this entire time. She couldn't focus very well which made her remember her headache as well. As she was lost in her thoughts she felt her body start to slow, and fatigue started to make her limps grow heavy.

Slowly she made her way to the bed. For some reason she felt like the bed had crossed the room to catch her because before she knew it she was crawling on top of it. She sighed as her head hit the pillow. Her eyes fluttered a few times, the tell-tale sign that the drought was in full effect. She snuggled deep into the thick furs that held a masculine scent. Her last thought before drifting to sleep that it hadn't been her room she had ran to.

It had been Garsiv's room.

**Seriously, if anyone sees mistakes, please let me know about them. I wrote this a while ago, and it was very quickly. I keep trying to read it again, but I am just so focused what I am currently writing that it sort of kills me to back track. I know, get a beta, but I do have one, she just currently is experiencing the same things I am: school.**


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